Fateful Irony
by ShinyGreenApple
Summary: Set after the events of DMC. Will has a shift in priorities and a longing of a different sort, while Elizabeth and Barbossa find more in each other than they bargained for. Complete!
1. Bygones

Disclaimer: I could never posses the brilliance of the combined talents of Ted & Terry along with the loverly Mr. Rush. I only own my imaginary reproduction of the slightly superfluous feathered hat. Disney owns everything else that you recognize.

Summary: Set just after the events of Dead Man's Chest; Elizabeth flirts with danger, Will finds himself second guessing his motives for the voyage, and Barbossa is set on claiming more than the _Pearl_. It's not a popular pairing, so all the more reason for me to write it :-P Flame if you like, but it'll do no good.

**_Fateful Irony_**

Elizabeth was growing steadily more uncomfortable as the afternoon waned on. She longed for the opportunity to be alone, away from the uncertain faces of her shipmates. Away from Will. There was a time when she yearned for nothing but the chance to gaze into his dark and steady eyes; she was unable now to meet them for even a moment. Disbelief, questions, regret, bitterness. Those were the only things that his eyes reflected now. She wished the uncomfortable silence between them was the extent of her worries, but perhaps that would have been too simple. It seemed fate had decided that she would not sleep well on this voyage. Nothing made her more uncomfortable at the moment than the nearly unwavering and unabashed stare that had followed her all day. She'd been under it's study before, and now it intimidated her more than it ever had before, when the threat had not been so complete, so whole. He could only watch her in torment, living vicariously through her. He gazed at her now with an entirely different longing. Though she was faced opposite him, she could feel his eyes upon her. Unable to bear it any longer, she whirled round to face him.

He stood at the ship's wheel, proudly, now and again closing his eyes, inhaling deeply as a strong breeze danced over his weathered face; it seemed the wind did as much for his spirit as it did for the sails that fluttered above him. One could almost have described him as gallant, fearless, heroic. Almost. She had stomped over to meet him and the illusion vanished the moment he turned his eyes upon her, the gallant expression replaced by a leering grin that he knew made her uneasy.

"Morning, Miss." He turned his attention back to the task of guiding the ship, still smiling to himself.

"Have you something to say to me, Captain?"

"Could say a lot of things", he mused, facing her once more. "But somethin' tells me you wouldn't be willin' to give me audience. No sense in _wasting _my breath." She immediately understood why he put emphasis on 'waste'. The words he'd said to her that day so long ago and what they'd implied were still with her, as plain as the thin scar she bore on her left hand. Quickly she turned and stormed away, still aware of the eyes that fell mercilessly upon her. He caught the cautionary glance she threw over her shoulder at him, smiling to himself. Knowing that now, it would only be a matter of time.

It seemed fit somehow that everyone had been left to his or her own quiet thoughts that day. Will leaned against the ships railing, idly digging at it with the knife in his hand. A gift of sorts, from his father. He wondered if this one would bring as much trouble as the last. In a way, he supposed, the last one had led him to Elizabeth, his cherished, the one person in his life that he could trust and love and give to with no regrets or fear of betrayal; or was it so? He began to ponder Jack's words about matrimony being cruel, was there any truth in the statement? He'd always taken what Jack said with a grain of salt, but the thought was pushed back by another. How did things come to this? He should be experiencing perpetual bliss right now, not doubt and bitterness and the anxious uncertainty that gnawed at him. He couldn't fathom why it was always he who was punished, when he was the one always trying to set things right. What had valiance bought him? Arrests, slaps, lashings, and more attempts on his life than he cared to recall. He had to laugh slightly at the irony of it all; the Turner's seemed destined to suffer for honest actions. Would his fate be as his father's, one worse than death? He stared thoughtfully at Barbossa, who'd inadvertently caused Bill's wretched fate. Who's command they were all under now, in a desperate attempt to retrieve _Jack. _Jack of all people, who put a bullet in his chest. As much as Will detested the man, he realized that he wasn't the only one smothered in irony. Shaking his head, he took a particularly aggressive dig at the railing and causing a small chunk of it to splinter off and cascade into the ocean that churned beneath them. He watched disinterestedly as it floated swiftly away and out of sight. He didn't hear the sound of someone approaching him from behind.

"Won't be any ship left to sail if you keep that up, Mr. Turner."

Immediately he straightened and spun round to face the Captain, who casually leaned against the railing beside him. A quick glance showed him that Gibbs had taken over the wheel. Barbossa took note of the knife, eyeing it with concealed interest.

"So how be your father these days?" he asked, with the slightest hint of taunting in his voice.

Will subdued the desire to draw his sword on the man. He may have held a small grudge against Jack for having the privilege of putting an end to him, not that it seemed to have done any good now.

"No better than he was when you last saw him", he spat. "Because of– "

"'Twas his own choice, boy, and a poor one at that."

Will's eyes narrowed. "You're blaming _him_. . . "

"Plenty of blame to go 'round, Mr. Turner, and not one of us innocent. Do ye even realize how many innocents were successfully preyed upon because of what he did? 'Remain cursed' indeed. Didn't even realize the terror he caused by forcing us to remain immortal, indestructible. Coulda saved a lot of people a lot of trouble by not thinking so rashly, hmm? Guess I shoulda been thankin' old Bill for what he did to us, and the trouble it caused you, and yer lady."

The young man's expression was unreadable for a moment before he finally spoke.

"I suppose you're the one worthy to dole out judgement, then."

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments as the two simply stared each other in the eyes before Barbossa sighed and slung his arm around the younger man, smiling haughtily at the irritation he knew it brought about.

"Bygones, Mr. Turner." He gave the boy a would-be affectionate slap on the back before turning and swaggering off.

There may have been something about Bootstrap's son that caused Hector Barbossa the slightest bit of unease, but no one would ever notice. He'd been in the habit of making his emotions unreadable for so long, it was now something that just came naturally, however regaining mortality had weakened this talent ever so slightly. He enjoyed weakness, but not his own. Foremostly he enjoyed the weakness of others against his uncanny ability to outwit, to charm. He knew now he could enjoy it to it's fullest, and inwardly dared anyone to try and stop him.

A/N: This is my first stab at fanfiction, so any feedback/constructive criticism would be loverly. I'm a bit nervous about writing Barbossa, he's such a fantastically classy character and I'd hate to get him wrong. Again, this is headed in the general direction of Liz/Barbossa, just to give a fair warning to those who are put off by it. What can I say? My muse has a dark side that refuses to be tamed.


	2. Do We Have An Accord?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, savvy?

_**Chapter 2**_

The first day at sea had proven to be awkward, and the crew hoped that there would be some truth to the old adage about night changing many thoughts. Indeed it proved to be true, but not the way they would have liked. The deepening darkness only made some more uneasy, for the simple fact that a man twice dead walked among them as their captain. They didn't know whether to consider him a marvel or a phantom; perhaps both were fitting descriptions. As he casually leaned against the ship's railing, he seemed neither. Elizabeth, quietly sitting in a secluded corner of the deck, observed that he actually looked tired, worn, but very much alive; so unlike her past encounter with him. It was then that she realized that they ship, along with the few scattered crew members who were still about were bathed in luminescent beams that danced upon them. The captain slowly tilted his head to look at the moon's dappled face, now at it's full, and smiled fondly. Elizabeth thought that for once, he didn't appear to be ugly or malicious, the smile had no crafty ulterior motive hiding behind it.

"Perhaps now, I can enjoy ye as I once did", he mused aloud, his smile widening just a bit before he gave a courteous nod to the glowing orb and let his gaze drop in no particular direction.

"By howling at it, I imagine", a voice quipped in a sarcastic, but slightly lighthearted manner.

He shot a mildly amused glance in Elizabeth's direction. Dying had not injured his sharp wit, and certainly not his appreciation for it in others. He strode over to where she sat and offered her his hand, once again wearing his trademark smirk. She rose from her hiding place, deliberately refusing his assistance, hoping to elicit irritation on his part, not knowing she'd achieved the exact opposite effect.

"No amount of chivalry is going to make me forget what you've put me through, Captain."

"Is that so?" he asked with mock astonishment. "Because if memory serves me correctly, none o' that would have happened if ye'd only been honest with me, Miss 'Turner'."

She found herself unable to look him in the eye; he was right and she knew it. Oh, the trouble that could have been saved if she'd not let herself be influenced by delusions of romantic piracy. _Parlay_, indeed. Not willing to admit defeat in a battle of words, she still struggled for a logical response.

"And if I had? If I'd been honest, you may not have done things differently after all, and you'd have killed Will."

"What of him?" he scoffed, throwing his hands up for added emphasis."Didn't take long for you to decide to marry some naval officer after Mr. Turner floated away with us. What's become of your bonny sailor, anyways?"

His tone had changed, instead of enjoying their banter, he seemed bent now on making her feel wretched and disloyal, and was so far having great success. Her cheeks went slightly red as an image of James Norrington's disheveled face flashed unbidden through her mind, and the look on his face whenever he knew that her thoughts dwelt on Will.

"No matter", Barbossa continued. "As I told yer love-struck lad this morning, bygones."

She nodded weakly, willing to give up her playful spat with him. "_Bygones_", was her solemn reply, not only to the man who stood before her. There were some things that you could never take back without swallowing an unpleasant amount of pride. She had the sneaking suspicion that spending much time around Hector Barbossa would cause her to drop down a few pegs, whether she liked the idea or not. Truth being the latter, but the ship was small, dry land miles behind them, and unfortunately for her, he was the only one with any clear idea of where they were headed.

"Elizabeth".

She gave a slight start at his use of her Christian name; it had always been "Miss Turner" in some form or another. He caught the annoyed look in her eye and spoke before she was able to correct him. "'Elizabeth' as that's a common factor with both the names you've given me so I can be fairly certain it's the truth. And also, we're on my ship, under my terms, so I'll be callin' you as I please."

Biting back a comment about captains and their self-importance, she turned to face him once more. "Of course. And I'll ask as I did earlier, have you something to say to me, _Captain_?" putting sarcastic emphasis on the title.

"As you seem in a better mood to listen that ye were before, yes. I think this situation would be more profitable for both of us, and everyone else if you and I were to call a truce."

"A truce." She blinked. "You and I." She stared at him in disbelief, but it was apparent in the way he patiently waited for a reply that he was not dishing out more of his infamous cheek. He raised an eyebrow. She was still trying to decide if she'd heard him correctly. "Let me clarify something, you want me to just forget that you abducted me, cut me open and knocked me across the face, and that's not even mentioning the knife you held to the throat of an innocent man; one that I love."

He sighed, almost regrettably. This was the part when he had be taken down a notch or two himself. "The frame of mind I was in, you've no way of knowing what that was like. Your antics combined with the stupidity of young Mr. Turner and the impudence of Jack Sparrow had driven me to a point of madness. I was a desperate man, willin' to do anything at that point. So yes, I'm askin' you to put in the past what's happened, and I truly do regret having to show you the back of me hand. I'd be grateful if you can find it in your fragile little heart to forgive me, but if not, know that I don't think less of ye for it." He seemed almost to be pleading with her.

For some reason, the idea of forgiving him for his atrocious behavior seemed like it would somehow make her feel less guilty for her own actions in the past few days, admitting to herself that she hadn't been the easiest person to live with. She turned her glance to him with a look of soft determination gracing her features.

"Alright, Captain. I accept." She met his eyes with unwavering confidence, noting for the first time that they seemed to be brighter than when he'd been under the curse.

He had a slight feeling of disbelief for a split second before giving her a small smile. He quickly recovered from his apparent lack of sarcasm and went wide-eyed. "I'm waiting", he said quietly.

"For _what?_" she questioned him, quite bewildered as to what he was getting at.

"For _your _apology, of course." Her bemused expression did not change.

"If you'll remember our last little voyage together, I provided ye with food and clothes, and invited you to sit at my own private table with plenty for your taking. All I did was tell a tale that apparently spooked the living wits out of you and next thing I know, there's a dinner knife planted in me chest. I'd have thought someone with your upbringing, maid or not, would have known how to behave more civilized than that."

She let out an exasperated and somewhat embarrassed sigh, rasing a hand to her eyes. There he was again, making her feel quite the fool. Refusing to let him get the better of her this round, she retorted "You don't seem to have suffered any permanent damage."

"Aye, but ye didn't know that when you decided to stick me, did ya?" She was about to say something terribly sarcastic when she noticed he seemed to be refraining from laughter. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head and smiling. "Captain Barbossa. . . you are unbelievable."

"I'm still waiting", he grinned mischievously.

"Very well, then. I'm sorry for the attempt I made on your life. Truce?"

"Truce", he nodded and extended his hand. She merely stared at it.

"My word is good enough for you, if you don't mind."

He withdrew his hand, chuckling and once again adopting the leer that had caused her so much unease that afternoon. He'd figured on her hesitance at that point. No matter, things had gone quite nicely for him; there would be plenty of time later to earn her trust. "Of course it is, Miss." He nodded and began to walk away. Against her better judgement, she went alongside him. "I thought it was to be 'Elizabeth', Captain."

"Can't win fer losing with you, can I girl? Miffed if I call ye Elizabeth and miffed if I don't. Perhaps you don't know what you want. Dunno why it should bother you, after all, that one's got a pretty little thing that he calls you and you don't seem t' mind ." He nodded towards Pintel, who was now at the helm.

"Evening, Poppet."He smiled tiredly at Elizabeth and ran a hand, dirtied from a day's work, across his tired face in an attempt to rub the sleep from his eyes, keeping the other hand on the wheel.

She tried to ignore the haughty expression that had crept onto Barbossa's face at Pintel's use of her pet name. It quickly changed as he and Pintel exchanged glances and a look of understanding passed between them. She knew what it meant. Their torment had finally come to an end; it was over. Barbossa shared an odd sort of kindred spirit with the two remaining crew members of the _Pearl_. Despite how he may have barked and snapped at them on occasion, there was an odd admiration and respect amongst the three men.

The Captain mounted the stairs, with Elizabeth still tagging along behind him. "Get some rest, lad."

"Aye, Cap'n." Pintel wore a tired, but overall satisfied smile as he headed below deck. He, at least seemed to be in good spirits. It was only now that Elizabeth began to wonder how exactly he and Ragetti had ended up with them when in fact they'd been under lock and key in a prison cell at Port Royale, but it didn't really seem important now. More importantly at the moment, was the fact that their captain had been awake for a day and a night, and seemed to be intent on taking the helm. "Shouldn't you get some rest, Captain?" she asked, more concerned for their safety than for his general well-being. He stepped aside, an arm extended towards the ship's wheel, offering for her to take his place. He found himself entertained by the look of elated shock on her face.

"I assume ye know what you're doin'?" Lack of an immediate response told him that she didn't. He gave her a lopsided smile.

"I won't have any member of my crew bein' unknowledgeable of such things. Here." She was a quick learner, as he discovered, a slight twinge of pride welling inside him. He thought that the sight before him certainly proved wrong the superstitious belief that it was bad luck to have women on board. She seemed to be managing well enough and he resigned himself to walk away, when an easterly caught the sails with a healthy amount of gusto, nearly pulling the wheel from her hands. She hadn't had time to panic, Hector was a man who'd learned that you had to react quickly and sometimes rashly or you might never react again. She still kept a desperate grip on the wheel, but two hands covered her own, learnedly pulling the ship back into submission. She thought perhaps she should get out of the way, but it proved to be unfeasible as she was caged in by his arms; his tall figure pressed loosely against her back. Instead she found herself adjusting her hold on the wheel, with every move, his hands always followed her own until they were back on course. Trembling and breathless, she looked over her shoulder, met by a stern face and lively blue eyes. "I– I'm sorry", she stammered. He stared down at her, his chin nearly resting on her shoulder. Her heart raced at the sight of his unreadable expression, and was suddenly afraid as she'd been so long ago when he pointed a gun at her; afraid, and oddly intrigued. She was mildly disturbed by the thought, and by her sudden lightheadedness. His features were unusually soft and relaxed.

"Think nothin' of it. You learn best from yer mistakes." He let go of her hands and started to back away, but as always, his eyes lingered, and for the first time, her gaze followed him as he went. He allowed himself a cocky smile and made to walk away, and as he turned around, he found himself looking directly into the face of William Turner.

**A/N: **Oh dear, that can't be good. Teehee, I love cliffhangers. A huge thanks to my lovely reviewers. Also I'd love suggestions on what to name the bloody ship that they're on right now. Hector simply cannot sail a ship with no name!


	3. Only A Detail

Disclaimer: I own that piece of seaweed that floats by the ship, which I have decided to christen _The Orpheus_, in reference to the Greek myth. These characters and anything else you recognize all belong to Disney.

_**Chapter 3**_

"May I ask what's going on here?" Will inquired stiffly, with arms folded across his chest. Barbossa merely shrugged his shoulders and nodded towards Elizabeth, who could only stare wide-eyed and hope they didn't draw swords on each other.

"She offered to take the helm; I simply couldn't refuse. Had a bit of a slip, but we've set things straight again. Am I right, Miss?"

Will studied his captain thoughtfully for a moment. "Not to worry, I can set things straight if she should slip again."

Barbossa gave him a sly grin. "Can ye now?"

The offhand comment brought on an unpleasant stirring in the pit of Will's stomach, accompanied by the flash of an equally unnerving image that seemed to appear whenever he tried to close his eyes in sleep. His ever-present sense of selflessness was pushed aside when he came to grips with the fact that this image was even more disturbing than what preceded and followed it; his shipmates, many whom he'd gotten to know so well, wrenched from his very hands and dragged to the unknown depths of the sea. The _Pearl_, once thought invincible, beaten to splinters and pulled to her second demise. No, this image was certainly much worse than all of that. _'I don't know,' _he quipped to himself in reply to Barbossa's question. _'Can I?' _He somehow managed to bring himself out of his sullen thoughts.

"We'll manage", was his cool reply.

"I'm sure you will". The captain wore a calm smile as he turned once more in an attempt to walk away from them both, after giving Elizabeth a courteous nod and Will another pat on the back.

"Oh, and Captain", Elizabeth called after him.

Barbossa sighed tiredly, the conversation was growing dull, even for his liking. He really wanted nothing more at the moment than a good night's rest, something he realized that he'd taken for granted long ago. Had that coy voice belonged to anyone else, his response would have been that of a sailor; the gentleman in him would respond this time. "Yes, Elizabeth?" he asked wearily.

"May I inquire as to where I'll be staying on this 'little voyage', as you call it? A man of your honor certainly wouldn't deny me a place to stay." Behind the facade of playfulness that she displayed, he knew she meant business. He glanced down the stairway, gesturing for her to follow him. Her glance danced from him, to Will, to the helm, and settled somewhere between the two men. Will bristled in distaste and slight disbelief at what he presumed to be Barbossa's proposition. Barbossa took a deep personal enjoyment from the reaction.

"Mind the helm for us, would you, Turner?"

Already irritated with the captain's haughty request, it certainly did nothing for Will's mood when he realized that Elizabeth actually intended to acquiesce, stepping aside in order for him to take her place.

"_Elizabeth!_" he hissed. "You're not going to fall for that?"

The expression on Barbossa's face twisted into one of disgust. He strode back over to the helm, towering over Will and looking him square in the eye. "Fall fer _what_, boy? Believe I've warned you before about impugning my honor; I've no intentions of assailing hers, either."

She stepped between them, taking Will's hand and placing it firmly on the wheel. "Gentlemen, I assure you both that I am quite capable of making my own decisions." One would have had to have been a fool to not be aware that Will was fuming by this point, and as much as it sorrowed her to bring it about, Elizabeth knew that there was no way of getting around it. She didn't think it fair being the only one choking down a bit of pride. While the situation that was unfolding would have certainly seemed inappropriate to the untrained eye, it was anything but. Elizabeth sighed sadly at Will before turning to follow the captain. Guilt reared its ugly face at her once more; she knew he only wished for her well-being and happiness, and she kept brushing it off. She shook her head. It wouldn't do now to make herself anymore vulnerable in front of Barbossa than she already had. He sensed her unease, but chose wisely to let be the matter; there were times when the weaknesses of people should not be taken advantage of, even by his way of thinking. They descended the stairs in silence, neither saying a word to the other until they reached the entrance to the captain's quarters. He opened a door adjacent to his own to reveal a modest, but homely cabin that had been fairly well-furnished; a few candles had already been lit here and there. She could only gape at him with a grateful, awkward expression, not knowing exactly what to say.

"Yours", he said with a suave smile.

"It seems that _The Orpheus _is as unusual as her captain" she finally managed, barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

The smile lingered on his face as he considered her, knowing that the presence of her quiet and amicable side wasn't something that he'd see very often, and decided to enjoy it while it lasted, however short it might be. _'Shame'_, he thought, for as much as he took pleasure in her displays of defiance and stubborn independence, he couldn't deny that there was something altogether appealing about her shyness and timidity at the moment. It showed him that despite her spirited demeanor, she really was fragile at heart, not knowing exactly what it was that she wanted out of life, needing guidance, protection. Protection? Perhaps that was a bit much; he reminded himself of how capable she'd been both in ship to ship battle and in physical combat at Isla De Muerta. No, she'd be needing instructing, not protecting. She had already proven to be a capable learner, he just had to earn enough trust to make her a willing one; in order to do so, he knew he'd have to be willing to call a few more truces. He blinked, snapping himself back into the present before his eyes gave him away.

"I'm glad it's to yer liking." He pulled the door closed again. "Now get back to work", He grinned at her, laughing huskily as he disappeared into his own cabin.

"Goodnight, Captain" she said with a roll of her eyes and a smirk, figuring it had to be a bit too perfect to not have some sort of catch on his part. She was truly grateful, nonetheless to have a place in which she'd be able to escape later on and be with her thoughts, without having eyes, be they leering or sorrowful, upon her. Sorrowful eyes that she wasn't looking forward to facing at the moment, but had no choice. She trudged back up the stairway, finding Will still at the helm, looking a bit defeated. He managed a weak smile.

"Are you alright, love?" he asked softly.

"I- I'm fine, Will". She hoped her slight irritation wasn't coming through her words, mentally scolding herself for harboring irritation towards him in the first place.

"I'm sorry I tried to speak for you". He shook his head. "What I saw just seemed. . . well 'compromised' is the word that immediately comes to mind. I don't mean to be impetuous, it's a fault that I'm trying to remedy, I only wish for your safety. A year ago I found myself throwing caution and lawfulness away in an attempt to remove you from his grasp; understand I lost my composure now with good reason. He may be our captain, for the time being, but I don't hold any trust for him." He swallowed, but his mouth was dry. "But I do trust you."

Despite how balmy and warm it had been when they resided at Tia Dalma's, the air was rapidly growing dry and uncharacteristically cold. Elizabeth tried to repress a shiver and failed; Will instinctively removed his overcoat and placed it over her shoulders. She had meant to further press the matter of 'trust' as she slipped her arms into the coat, but was cut off by an exclamation from behind; it was Gibbs.

"Good God, Will. Your back!"

Elizabeth craned her neck round to see, gasping in horror when she saw the bloodied mess that had seeped through his shirt and dried over several times, causing the fabric to adhere to his skin.

"Will, what _happened_?" she asked, regretting the fact that she was restricted to the wheel and unable to fuss over him.

He thought for a moment before answering. "An act of compassion." He'd actually managed to somehow forget the searing gashes were even there; the events of the past two days had driven it from his mind. Now he was painfully aware of them once more.

"_Compassion_?" Echoed Gibbs. He shook his head. "You should have had Miss Tia take a look at that before we left; much longer and infection'll set in, and we'll have one more mess on our hands. Come on, and we'll get you some rum for that."

Will winced, he knew this was going to be far from pleasant. Unpleasant, but necessary, he thought, and headed below deck with a heavy sigh.

Gibbs turned to Elizabeth before he went. He'd apparently overheard much of the exchanging of words earlier. "I know yer the kind of lass what likes to be frightful independent and all that, but I think you should listen to Will about . . .", he lowered his voice. ". . .about the captain. I don't much trust him either."

"Who does?" she smiled.

"I don't trust him with _you_, Miss Elizabeth."

She nodded at him fondly, always having had a soft spot for his fatherliness towards her. "I'll be careful, Gibbs."

He smiled and gave her an affectionate pat on the back before heading below to tend to Will, and she was finally left in peace for the time being, with much to think over.

She hadn't said she didn't trust him. Being completely honest with herself, she really couldn't say whether she trusted him or not. She had to admit to herself, standing at the helm like that did tend to have a swelling effect on one's self importance, and let herself stand a bit taller than normal, and tilt her chin ever-so-slightly higher. It gave her a feeling of power, of being exempt from rules and morals and . . . _guidelines,_ leading her to a roguish conclusion as she smiled haughtily.

'_Trust is relative'._

**A/N:** Whew! This chapter was an absolute bugger to write, Will has been a real challenge for me. Expect me to draw on more Greek myth as the story progresses. Rum for anyone who can catch the references to "LOST", there are at least two, I may have slipped more in without realizing it. (Dangit, Sayid, this isn't your story, get out, get OUT I say! Not really, likely there are many more references to come) Hopefully I can get the plot moving on a bit faster now, I feel pretty satisfied with character setup, so we can move on to "da weird and haunted shores."


	4. Don't Mistake Coincidence For Fate

**Disclaimer:** I love disclaimers. . . I like to wave at them as they pass by. If I owned all this, don't you think I'd have better things to do than sit at my computer all day?

_Note: _When I first wrote this, my knowledge of how things were done in this era was very limited, and I now realize that if you put rum, which is very high in sugar, on an open wound, you would do nothing more than give the patient a really nasty infection. I'm very sorry, Will -gives him a cookie and an apologetic smile-

_**Chapter 4**_

'Unpleasant' would be putting delicately the ordeal of having several-day-old and untreated cuts being introduced to the unmerciful nature of fine quality liquor. Will couldn't help but let out a hiss of pain here and there as it made contact with the raw flesh. Peeling the blood-soaked shirt off had not proven to be anymore pleasant. Try as he could, Gibbs couldn't come to any logical conclusions on how the mess before him could be referred to as compassion.

"Will, I'm tryin' to make sense of this. . . if this is 'compassion', then I'd sure hate to see malice; there wouldn't be any hide left on you."

"Exactly." Will turned round to see the expression on Gibb's face and smiled, the first genuine smile seen on him since they'd stepped on board _The Orpheus_. "And so it would seem I have Bootstrap Bill Turner to thank for my nearly intact hide." He waited for a response.

"So,_ he_ did this? The alternative being?"

"The same. From a less broken and more hardened member of the _Dutchman_. Ah!" He winced as more rum trickled into his open wounds. "Jack was right about him; despite his poor choices, he's a good man. He's too good to be on that buoyant hell that they call a ship. No man deserves that, no matter how foolish he may have been in life. He deserves better, and he'll get it." As he spoke, Will felt a final resolve beginning to flow in his veins, and it what was unclear to him became unmistakably clear at last. He'd started to feel a bit guilty about his half-hearted attitude to rescue Jack when everyone else had been so fervent about it. Despite the slightly bizarre appearance and mannerisms of Tia Dalma, she was, in reality, gifted with the ability to present people with a fact quite clearly, uncannily being able to pinpoint the cause of their perplexities before they themselves even knew they had one, and she'd set William Turner's before him. He mentally rebuked himself for being so blindly ignorant of it now as her wise words rushed profoundly back to him.

"_It's a shame. I know you're thinking that with da Pearl, you coulda captured the devil and set free your father's soul."_

Fate had dealt him an oddly favorable hand in these recent days, and he'd failed to see it. Why hadn't he simply taken the compass from Jack in lieu of chasing after the _Flying Dutchman_? It would have saved him so very many troubles, and he could have gone back to Port Royale to resume his wedding and start the rest of his life as a commoner with the woman that he loved. It could have been that simple honest streak that Jack knew he could use to his purposes that kept Will from pilfering the unusual trinket. It could have been the pirate blood beginning to dominate his actions. It could have been curiosity or plain stupidity. Pondering all this, Will shook his head and laughed, it was none of these things, save for perhaps the fleeting though of his pirate lineage. He'd never been a terribly religious man, and hadn't really ever thought about destiny or fate, until he'd been unwittingly handed over to the person he believed to be equal with the devil himself and faced with eternal damnation. Coincidence that led him to his father? Never. Perhaps saving Elizabeth had only been a small part of the reason why he'd chosen adventure over common sense yet again.

While finishing up on the wounds, Gibbs had been watching Will intently, having the foreboding feeling that he'd be inevitably involved with whatever delusions might have been going through the young man's head at the moment; the grin forming on his face made him a bit uneasy. It reminded him of when Jack had been standing at the helm of the _Interceptor_ in the middle of that storm, appearing reckless and slightly mad, but terribly pleased with himself. Smiling, while the rest of them did all that they could to keep from being thrown overboard by the merciless and savage waters.

"Will. . ." he began slowly. "Exactly what do you mean by 'he'll get it'? One soul at a time now, lad."

"Oh, of course. Wherever Jack is, I'm assuming there the _Pearl _will be also. Barbossa at least seems to think so. We'll be needing it, if we're to gain on Jones. Although, there is an obstacle I've not thought a way around yet; without the heart, I have no way of destroying him and no bartering chip, that's going to be a problem."

Gibbs had deduced to taking a generous portion of rum from the bottle in his hand at the words ". . .gain on Jones." _'Daft like Jack or I'm the captain's monkey. . .' _He let out a collected breath, rendered speechless as Will merely stared at him wearing a cunning grin that was rather well suited to his handsome features. Yes, it was clear now, the boy had gone slightly mad, and though whatever plan he was concocting at the moment would likely end up putting Gibbs and countless others in frightfully perilous excitement, he knew that he wouldn't miss it for the world.

The sunrise the following morning brought with it a slight relief from the unusual onset of frigid winds, but as it was a relief from the sweltering Caribbean heat, no one questioned it, at least not for a while. Will barely noticed it at first, as he had more pressing matters to deal with. He approached Captain Barbossa, his newfound boldness and confidence apparent in his step and the slightly alluring smile that he wore. His mood, a change from the sulkiness he'd displayed the previous night, was mirrored by the captain, who turned to meet him, also wearing a look of resolve.

"Ah, Mr. Turner, I have a need to be speakin' with ye", he smiled.

"Of course, and likewise", Will nodded courteously, not even flinching as the other man once again rested an arm over his shoulders.

"In order for this little voyage to be as advantageous as possible, truces must be called, Mr. Turner, not the least of which is to be between you and I.."

Will squinted. "You're forcing a truce with me?"

"Not forcing", said Barbossa assuredly, a sly smile playing across his face. "'Strongly suggesting your agreement' would be putting it closer to the mark."

With his hands shoved deep into his pockets, Will mulled over the offer for a few moments as he strolled casually along the deck with the captain. The oddity of the sight of the two of them in such close contact and being so fantastically well-behaved towards each other was a sign to the crew to keep a safe distance, should they decide to burst into spontaneous aggressive swordplay. A furtive smile crept onto Will's face as he pondered the possible advantages of the situation at hand. He stopped and turned to face his companion.

"I'll call that truce with you, Captain, but I'm afraid it'll have to be with certain conditions."

"Such as?"

"I'll have need for your ship; a fleeting one, but a need nonetheless." He suddenly remembered that specificity was needed in negotiations with Barbossa. "For the _Pearl_, that is."

"Aye, and in your 'fleeting need', I suppose you'll see fit to hand 'er over to Jack and pull a fast one on me, eh?"

"She'll be returned to you on my honor; whether or not Jack captains her again is no concern of mine."

"If not to return her to her _wrongful_ owner, then what exactly would your little need entail, may I ask?"

Will reached further into his pocket and produced the knife he'd been toying with the day before, holding it at Barbossa's eye level. "I made a promise to the man who gave this to me. You're a man of your word, Barbossa, and so am I. You've been freed from your decade of torture, I think it's only right that the same be done for him. Wouldn't you agree?"

Barbossa regarded him with the slightest amount of admiration before responding. "So you expect me to lend you my ship in hopes of finding salvation for the man what caused my ten years of hell on earth?"

Will then slung his own arm around Barbossa's neck, sporting an uncharacteristically stylish grin that suited his features quite well. "Bygones, Captain."

Barbossa smiled coyly at Will's witty response; it seemed Elizabeth wasn't the only one who caught on quickly. Perhaps Turner wasn't going to be as much of a nuisance as he'd first anticipated. _'But God, the Pearl?'_ As much as Hector liked to think of himself as invincible, pursuing the _Dutchman _was something he knew could turn out to be more than even he could handle. However, the cooperation and alliance that hung in the balance was more valuable to him at this point.

"I'll accept those conditions, Turner, upon adding a few of my own."

Will raised his eyebrows, prepared to listen.

"Ye may use my ship in the attempt to retrieve yer father, no matter how unlikely it is that you'll succeed, so long as it's clear that she'll still be under _my _command. You've seen what happened the last time another captained her, I won't be lettin' that happen again. Secondly, I don't appreciate yer constant accusations of me regarding Miss Elizabeth. She and I have already made our peace; you needn't waste unnecessary fretting over her well-being. Now-" He faced Will with a hand extended towards him.

"Do we or don't we?"

Will hesitated for half a moment before heartily grasping the offered hand with a smile. "We do."

Barbossa returned the smile and the two of them continued to walk along the deck, the chill fingers of the wind mercilessly probing at the folds of their clothing. A fog had been hanging over them for the early hours of the morning; it had now lifted, the sun shone as nicely as anyone could have liked.

"Captain. . ." said Will as he studied the sky. "Is there any reason why we've gone from scorching heat to bundling ourselves in layers in less than a day?"

He cast a knowing glance at Will. "Lay yer hand on that anchor, son. Tell me what you feel."

As odd as it seemed, Will did as he was told, shock spreading over his face as his hand came into contact with what he'd expected to be frigid metal. "It's warm," he said in disbelief.

"Aye. This wind affects only what it chooses to. _The Orpheus _is only a ship; there'd be no sense in wasting efforts to try and chill it. Mortals, now they're a different story. 'Tis why I brought nothing with which to ward it off, the only thing it would have succeeded in doing was to weigh us down." He noticed Will's brow starting to furrow in concern. "Just don't try to hang onto your sanity too tightly, Turner. The tighter you hold onto something, the faster yer gonna lose it." Will nodded distractedly, having the feeling that there was more truth to the words than he happened to care for.

**A/N:** I know it's only a few reviews, but you all are simply wonderful! I didn't expect to get such positive feedback on a Barbossabeth fic. We're still a chapter or two away from Jack; I've got that scenario all thought out and ready to write, but I'm having terrible fun with the voyage. Hopefully the boys were still in character in this chapter, and I've been inspired by those scenes in DMC in which Will basically assumes the role of captain. I can really see that going places, so I'm having fun with that aspect of Will. Again, thanks for the loverly support!


	5. Confessions Over Wine

**_Disclaimer:_** What do you say to three shillings, and we forget the disclaimer? I don't own this, Barbossa owns me. We make beautiful, harmonious music together.

_**Chapter 5**_

"_Elizabeth, ye shouldn't be in here**."**_

"_Nor should your arms be around me, Captain, yet here they are."_ When or how she'd entered the cabin was a mystery, one that he was far too distracted from to try and solve.The touch of her delicate hands against his own was maddening. It was fast becoming a struggle to keep his composure. He hadn't intended for it to happen like this, and despite attempts to remind himself of that, his arms had still managed to slip around her from behind as they'd done that night at the helm. Only now, she didn't tremble, but leaned unabashedly against him, turning to look up at him with doe-eyes and a salacious smile, one that he took reluctant pleasure in emulating. He ignored the part of him that screamed to put a stop to this, to send her back to her own cabin, choosing instead to push her hair aside and press his lips to her neck, rolling his eyes at the euphoric sensation brought on by the warmth of her skin. He tightened his embrace, one arm wrapped snugly around her waist, the other over her chest, and intensified his oral assault, tentatively biting at the delicate flesh. Pleased with meeting no resistance, he maneuvered his way over to the large chair that sat in the corner of the room and sank into it, grinning devilishly as he drew her into his lap. She tilted her head back, still gazing up at him admiringly, bringing a hand up to lazily run her fingers through his hair.

"_Could this be anymore wrong, Captain? Could this be anymore perfect?" , _she asked sweetly.

He laughed softly,once again burying his face in her neck. _"I don't know that it could be anymore 'wrong'", _he whispered. _"But it would be a bit more perfect if you were dressed more like a lady and less like a deck hand." _He stopped to give her an impish smile. _"I still have that dress of ours, if you don't mind." _She turned to face him, wearing a look of mock annoyance that lasted for only a short moment before melting into a girlish smile. He nodded. _"It's in that mahogany trunk in your cabin." _

"_Wait for me", _she said, quickly kissing him on the cheek before she disappeared into her own quarters, leaving him to his thoughts.

'_Probably going to take her sweet time, likely as not,'_, he mused to himself. After a short while, footsteps could be heard. He smiled and turned his glance to the door, expecting to see her and meaning to give her plenty of trouble about making such a racket about it, trying to decide on a delightfully fitting punishment. Her name died on his lips at the figure who stood in his doorway. It resembled a man, or the remnants of one, the face of which was pale, with sad, lifeless eyes. A few strands of lank hair hung past his shoulders, dripping wet the same as his clothes, forming a dank puddle on the cabin floor. Inhuman it looked, yet familiar. Various, indistinguishable forms seemed to be leeching onto his face and shoulders, having a life of their own. He dragged a grossly corroded cannon behind him, chained to him at the feet.

"_Bill . . .?" _Barbossa quavered with atypical unsureness to his voice.

The man's gaze met him dead in the eyes. _"Feelin' guilty now? Yeah, you know you'd best be helpin' him"_, he stated accusingly. He came a few steps closer. _"Why'd you do it, Hector? Do you regret it?"_

Barbossa was at a loss for words, he only wanted to keep his distance from Bill, but found himself unable to move. Glancing down, he found Bill's cannon now attached to his own feet, chained to him about the ankles. He was no longer in the confines of the cabin, but standing out on deck, growing more uneasy as Bill strode mechanically towards him with a disturbingly strange smile; suddenly he placed his foot on the cannon and gave it a swift shove. It crashed through the railing and plummeted towards the sea. There was no time for Barbossa to react, rashly or otherwise. Gelid waters swirled about him and began to close over his head. He managed to break the surface, struggling futilely against the weight that dragged him steadily downwards, and looked up to see Bill leering over at him, only now it wasn't Bill. He'd seemingly changed somehow, the leeching forms had disappeared, and he seemed to be growing younger all the time. The pale skin was now tanned, the lifeless eyes anything but. A pearly smile was the signature feature to his handsome face. It was indeed William Turner, but the younger of the two, and his expression dripped with mockery.

"_You will now"_, were the eerie words that he stated as he watched his captain sinking into the inky black expanse that churned beneath them.

'_Not this'_, thought Barbossa. _'Anything but this. . .'_. Salt water rushed into his mouth and filled his lungs, quelling his desperate attempts to shout out; he was slightly surprised with himself when he realized who it was that he was attempting to shout for. It seemed nearly over now, he felt himself seized with panic, unable to take in air. One last effort. . . what more could he lose?

"Elizabeth!"

Suddenly the ocean was gone, along with every other horrendous aspect of the ordeal; he was surrounded by the familiar furnishings of the captain's quarters. His own voice had startled him awake; a cold sweat exaggerated the effects of the unnatural chill that plagued them. He was able to quickly gain control of the shaky, gasping breaths that he'd awoken to, shaking his head and hoping that for the love of all that was good and decent, no one had heard him. Remorse was a widely unexplored emotion for him; Will might have given in to another haughty smile had he known he'd awakened it. No longer having a desire to sleep, the captain rose from his bed and decided to make his appearance a bit less disheveled before heading outside, a large bottle of wine in hand. As he shut the door to his cabin, he turned to see a lone sailor leaned against the mast. A smile slowly formed on his face as he noticed that the sailor was particularly slight and small of frame. He too leaned his back against the mast, giving the person a sideways glance as he took a drink.

"Something wrong with your cabin?"

She shook her head lamely. "No, no it's lovely." Her face was startlingly pale and she seemed to be trying to regain composure; her breathing was shaky and uneven, though she tried to hide the fact. Not in the mood to be probed with questions, she turned the focus on him.

"Is something wrong with yours?" He shook his head. "Then why are _you_ out here?"

"Same reason as you, it would seem." He offered her the wine; it was eagerly accepted.

They stood this way in silence for some time, passing the bottle back and forth between them. While she would have preferred to be left alone, there was something oddly comforting about his presence. It gave her a sense of normalcy, of knowing that the nightmares had been just that: nightmares. It was always nice to be presented with something familiar after dreams like that, just to be reminded of the reality of the here and now. She too, had been plagued with dreams that magnified her guilty conscience. Those eyes, those sad, brown eyes staring right through her. And it had felt so _real_. His eyes had been the only recognizable feature on him, everything else had been so marred and deformed. She shuddered, trying to forget the horrific image. She choked back a sob, whispering, "I _am _sorry, Jack . . . I'm sorry." She looked up to find Barbossa staring at her, looking a bit surprised. She hastily rubbed at the tears forming in her eyes and avoided his gaze.

"'Twas only a dream, Miss. Nothing more."

"No", she said, shaking her head. Apparently the wine had loosened her tongue, because she continued. "He. . . I tricked him and chained him to the mast", she sniffled, more tears threatening to fall. "He didn't stay behind, Captain. I left him to die."

He studied her intently for a moment before giving her a small smile and replying.

"So did I", he whispered, the smile widening. "We both know how that turned out."

She couldn't help but smile gratefully at him, he certainly had a point.

His glance dropped to the wine in her hand. "Better?"

"Yes, yes thank you", she nodded. They both knew they hadn't been drinking to try and keep warm, though it had aided to do such, nonetheless.

"Hand it over now, we can't have you three sheets to the wind. Need you too much."

"I beg your pardon?"

He broke into a sly grin as only he could. "You'll see."

Morning came not two hours later, and she found herself receiving an extensive lesson in all things nautical. He was so intent on the thoroughness of the subjects that the signature leering grin hadn't yet made an appearance by noon. Oddly enough, Will let the two of them alone, for the most part. He passed the hours with his own shipboard duties, usually shared with Gibbs or Marty. Then there were the times when he simply gazed out to sea, his emotions unreadable, eyes nearly glazed over, so deep was he in thought. While she was growing thoroughly exhausted with the seemingly endless tasks being given her, Elizabeth also garnered a great deal of satisfaction and fulfilment from the added work. It was nice, for once, not to be the token damsel or stowaway on board. She may have been a bit daunted had she known why Barbossa had such a sense of urgency about his little training course, but more than likely she would have summoned up her hard-headed determination and been up for the challenge anyways. The captain had seemed pleased with her progress so far, and within a few days was able to stand back a bit, only aiding her when absolutely necessary. He'd lost his temper on occasion, now and again snapping at her if she wasn't catching on as quickly as usual. Most women would have quavered at his temperamental outbursts, she only repaid his impatience with venomous glares. Nonetheless, Will felt an urge to confront him on the matter, quietly and when she wasn't in earshot of him.

"You needn't be so hard on her, she's come a long way, I can attest to that."

"I can understand your disapproval of my tetchiness with her, Turner, but we've not much longer till we're gonna need her."

Will narrowed his eyes in slight confusion. "Do I even want to ask?"

"No." Barbossa shook his head, laughing to himself before walking away without another word.

'_No, boy, you really don't.'_

A/N: Ohh, a whole day late with my chapter, can you ever forvgive me! New Chapter Release Tuesday came a bit late this week, aye? This chapter presented me with a bit of writer's block towards the middle, which I overcame (obviously). Had a hard time getting it to a place where I was happy. I'm not entirely sure that she'd drink after him, but hey, why not? Hope you all enjoyed the dream sequence, as I do realize there was a sad lack of Barbossabeth in the last chapter. Ahem, have I redeemed myself? Will went from being fairly difficult to write, to becoming dangerously close to taking over the story. Shame on him!

I can't thank you all enough for the reviews and encouragement, it's really kept this thing alive. Until next time, ta!


	6. Madmen

**_Disclaimer: _**These characters sail under the Disney flag and wear the Disney brand, bless their poor hearts.

A/N: A longish chapter. Enjoy.

_**Chapter 6 **_

As he sat at a table with Barbossa to his left, Will on his right, and Elizabeth sandwiched between the two of them, Gibbs thought that never in his life had he been in such an uncomfortable social situation. He tried his best to hide his unease, but the way he shifted his eyes about gave away the fact, to the amusement of his companions. Whatever animosities may have existed amongst the crew, no one ever seemed to have one with him; it was almost as if he were the voice of reason at times, it seemed to be his gift. A gift, that at the moment, he probably wished he didn't posses, but the purpose of retrieving his friend and captain outweighed the awkwardness that he was forced to endure. He sighed and ran a hand over his head, yet another telltale sign of his discomfort.

"You wanted to discuss something with us, Cap'n?"

"Hm? Yes, that I did", answered Barbossa hastily, trying to repress a smile. Gibbs' fidgeting had been entertaining; he so enjoyed it when others squirmed. It wasn't necessarily out of mean-spiritedness, it just gave him irrepressible sportsmanlike delight, whether the person was an adversary or not. He mentally rebuked himself; now was not the time to be getting lost in petty thought.

"The lady's sailing talents have progressed in leaps and bounds", he said, gesturing towards Elizabeth with a courteous smile; she suppressed a smug grin. He shot her a sideways glance. "Aside from the cannonball you dropped on my foot, that is." She bit her lip. That had been one occasion in which he'd had every right to lose his temper. He was still trying to figure out if it had been an honest accident.

"Aye, indeed they have!" said Gibbs with much enthusiasm, once again playing the role of peacemaker. Will merely raised his eyebrows; he found himself growing quickly disinterested in what seemed to be pointless blathering. Barbossa's gift of intuition urged him to bring matters back into focus.

"Gents, I only hope you trust 'er. For a fleeting time, she and I will be the only ones capable of keeping our heads, so I'll be needin' your cooperation." Silence and furrowed brows from Will and Gibbs was the response that he received. "Before ye ask me why, I'll just be blunt about it. You boys familiar with sirens?" Gibbs nodded; his heart had promptly leapt into his throat at the mention of them. Had he been asked the same question a year prior, Will would have been painfully skeptical of the idea. Having been assailed upon by the living dead, served time in oceanic Hell, and escaped a leviathan by the skin of his teeth, he knew better now.

"Sirens", he repeated with a sigh. "And what are we to do about said creatures?"

"Same as Odysseus", Barbossa smiled. "Stuff our ears and run like hell."

-

Barbossa felt slightly disturbed, but not in the least bit surprised by the level of excitement that had arisen amongst the crew not long after. He only hoped they'd be fairly cooperative about the whole situation and not try anything that would be, as Jack would have said, incredibly stupid. He kept a particularly sharp eye on Turner, who still managed to cause him the slightest bit of unease, though he was unable to pinpoint exactly why. He was certainly a valuable commodity to have aboard, but was developing the ability to use his wits at an alarming pace, which could prove to be either very useful or absolutely disastrous. The events to take place in the following days would have to be the judge of that.

It grew increasingly colder as the days passed, and though the wind didn't seem to put a great effort into chilling inanimate objects, there was hardly a place could be found where one could keep their teeth from chattering. Some received coldness in a form besides that of the physical, as Elizabeth soon learned. On a night when flecks of white could be seen flitting now and then in the unforgiving wind, she'd felt particularly girlish and couldn't help but notice how strikingly attractive Will appeared at the moment, with unkempt hair blowing recklessly across his face; it was decidedly a good moment to meander over and snake her arms about him before placing a gentle kiss to his icy lips. Even with her eyes closed, she got the distinct impression that something wasn't right. She looked up to find him flatly unresponsive, rigid even. He seemed to be having a moment of indecision. His apparent way of recovering from it was by resolutely pushing her arms from around his body and stepping back a pace. One might have thought she'd at least look a little bit hurt, but the expression on her face was one of reluctant understanding, and they both seemed saddened by it in their own quiet ways. Not a word exchanged, but so much said. And so they parted ways for the evening, both feeling a bit bad about the situation but neither one really seeing a way around it. She'd walked away with every intention of entering her cabin to seek out what little warmth it had to offer, but somehow ended up sitting at the bottom of the stairway, to be once again discovered and to reluctantly enjoy the unwelcome company. There wasn't even the weak excuse that she sat with him because he had wine to offer this time, only a way of avoiding solitude and loneliness for a bit longer. Truce or not, she knew it should have bothered her to be in the company of a shameless criminal, one whom she'd been captive to, no less. And yet it seemed he was the only one aboard who understood her. She nearly laughed aloud at how preposterous that thought had sounded in her head. _'As if he could possibly . . .' _she rolled her eyes. There was no point in trying to make sense of it all, and it seemed much easier to simply let come what may and accept it, despite what oddities came along with it. And what had come at the moment was the two of them sitting on a stairway, oblivious to their past animosities. After a while, she broke the silence, daring to ask the question that had bothered her since he'd shared his plans with Will and Gibbs.

"Captain?" she inquired. "Why is it that only you and I will be able to 'keep our heads', as you say, in the presence of these wonderful little obstacles you speak of?"

He shrugged. "I've been through this with ye before. Their song is enough to beckon the most hard-set sailor to lose his mind and set a heading for disaster."

"That still leaves me with the question of how you and I are exempt."

"Women, Miss Swann, are exempt from such enchantments", he smiled.

"In that case, you are positively the ugliest woman I've ever laid eyes on", she said with a teasing smile. He cast her a disapproving glance.

"None o' yer cheek now", he rebuked with a smirk. "They've not much desire for me; I've already been to Hell twice. There'd be no charm in a third time, either. 'Twould be futile for 'em, really." He spoke with his usual haughtiness, but his face gave away the slightest hint of doubt, and she made a note to herself to keep a sharp eye, nonetheless. Her experiences with pirate captains had taught her that they thought and made more of themselves than there really was to be had. She'd already brought up the question of why they couldn't simply sail _around _the sirens, and was met with the morbid reply that he was choosing the lesser of the awaiting evils. She was roused from her thoughts by a stiff wind that pushed towards them, sending a good deal of icy spindrift swirling into their faces. Throughout the voyage, he'd almost seemed to be embracing the cold just for the sake of feeling it, yet now, even this was a bit much. He promptly stood, taking her by the elbow and pulling her to her feet; she held a hand over her eyes to shield them from the wind and snow. Having spent the better part of her life in the Caribbean, she was unused to the harsh arctic elements, and despite his coarse demeanor, he also at times possessed the same chivalrous characteristics as Will. She seemed a bit flustered and annoyed with him; he'd instinctively shielded her from the cold with his body as he escorted her to the door.

"Captain, I assure you that's not necessary", she said, trying to hide her uneasiness and demurely removing herself from his grasp. She was slightly perplexed as to why she felt so uneasy; he at least wasn't threatening her with something sharp or pointing pistols in her direction. And she'd come out of even those instances relatively unharmed. He now regarded her with a cocky, somewhat injured smile.

"Perhaps not", he admitted, eyes narrowing. "But I was a gentleman once, Miss. Some habits never die."

"I have a difficult time imagining someone with your vocabulary and table manners to have ever been a gentleman", she said with a smirk.

"Ha! And it could also be said that you look nothing like a governor's daughter, not at the moment, anyhow."

"Fine", she rolled her eyes as she hugged herself tightly and shivered.

That leer. There it was, trying to surface again, yet for some reason he wouldn't allow it. Not completely, anyways. His look was one of sincere amusement, but it always lingered in his eyes just a bit, and now and then tugged at the corners of his mouth. He couldn't help but notice that she once again seemed a bit vulnerable and leering at her made him feel slightly like a dirty old cad, something that he oddly no longer wanted associated with his reputation.

"_Yer deeds gonna catch up wit' you one day, Captain. Yer not as invincible as you like to tink."_

So Tia had warned him. He'd bristled at her, only to have her roll her eyes at him and walk away with a smile. He and Jack had always come to her in times of distress, yet never seemed to heed a word she said. They were the absolute bane of her existence, but she still looked forward to the times when they'd come knocking on her door.

He sighed, still not willing to admit that she was absolutely right. He noticed now that they'd been sailing past unusually shaped bergs for some time. He turned to Elizabeth once more.

"Best get yer rest. Tomorrow's gonna be an interesting day."

"Tomorrow?" she asked solemnly.

He nodded regrettably before tipping his hat to bid her goodnight and retiring to bed for the evening. Neither would sleep well.

-

"Will? Will, did you-"

"Yes, all carried out, as the Captain ordered. The crew can't hear worth a mite. All that's left to do now is wait then, I suppose."

Elizabeth didn't like the way he only half paid attention to what he was doing and saying that morning. He seemed to be rather distracted and lost in his own adventurous thoughts, as if he were plotting or anticipating some great and wonderful event, when everyone else was unsure if they would even survive another hour. Gibbs had said nothing to anyone about the odd look he'd seen in Will's eyes as of late, but it was becoming plain to Elizabeth that her fiancé was growing into a bit of a madman. Did it really matter, seeing as how they all had to be a bit mad to be sailing to World's End, whatever that was, and rescuing someone who was undeniably and in every sense of the word, dead? Perhaps, and perhaps not. Then again, maybe he always had been mad and just never showed it. Even more disturbing was the fact that she relied on Barbossa's supposed sanity to keep Will in his place. She shook her head, exasperated at the chaos of it all as the Captain approached them.

"Not quite, boy. Perhaps I wasn't clear; you're not above those orders anymore than anyone else. So I'm askin' ye now to kindly plug yer ears."

Will shook his head with a wicked and resolute smile. "No." He was met with an icy glare.

"'No'?" Captain Barbossa was unused to being told such and fought the urge to grab Will by his collar, managing to maintain a collected demeanor.

"Aye", said Will, the wild look never leaving his eyes. "I want to hear them."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped and she simultaneously went bug-eyed. She had meant to protest but didn't have a chance, the captain had already given his answer.

"You sure about that, Turner?"

"Never been so sure in my life, Captain", he smiled.

Barbossa nodded solemnly. "Very well, then. Elizabeth, go get me some rope."

"Rope?" Will asked.

Barbossa had to smile. There was still some naivety about Will Turner that would have to be pruned from him, if he were ever to make it safely to old age.

"Of course. Ye don't think I'm about to let you run about unrestrained _and _open-eared, do ya?" He smiled with satisfaction at the look on Will's face.

'_You sure as hell better look sheepish after a stupid question like that'_, he thought to himself.

Elizabeth promptly returned, a coil of rope in hand; she looked considerably paler than she had a moment ago. He nearly asked her if she'd care to do the honors of securing Will to the mast, but thought better of it at the last moment, instead genteelly taking the rope from her. She knew she should have found an excuse to busy herself with something else instead of watching, but found herself fixated on the two of them. Will seemed unfazed for the experience of being tied in several different places by a man who had once tried to kill him, only standing there with eager anticipation written all over his face. The scenario had made Elizabeth feel somewhat uneasy, but she lost control of herself when she caught sight of his hands being brought behind his back and tied. She promptly raced to the nearest railing and was sick. She was still suffering from dry heaves when she was discovered by Barbossa. They didn't speak, but then, words weren't always needed. Of course this wasn't a mockery of what she'd done to Jack and confided in him, albeit while slightly drunk, and of course she knew that it was for Will's own good and not for harm. Nonetheless, the stern reassurance was there to remind her of the fact, and also to remind her that she was responsible for half of today's command. Shakily, she took hold of his arm for support as she stood straight again. She might have taken the time to stare pitifully at Will in his willingly incapacitated state, but was distracted from doing so by one of the most horrendous noises she'd ever heard in her life.

Barbossa immediately turned and headed for the helm, she followed, still using his arm for support. He hastily stood her before the wheel before turning to keep a close watch on the rest of his crew, lest any of them had decided to baulk at their orders. He'd half counted on Will to be the silent voice of reason among them, but seeing as how the boy wanted to try his luck with temptation, they'd have to do without him. A course of action had already been laid out and was sworn to be followed or else be rewarded for their failure to follow orders with keelhauling. Barbossa felt a familiar sense of foreboding as they drew closer to the offending noise. It neither beckoned nor repulsed him, but settled somewhere between the two. He stood with his sword drawn, as a warning to anyone who might have been enticed by the appearance of them alone. Will's first comments on the singing made Barbossa wish that the _Orpheus _was equipped with sweeps. He sighed regrettably.

"God, it's beautiful. . ."

It would have been nice if that were the extent of William's fit, but as always, they wouldn't be permitted to get off quite that easily. After several enthusiastic minutes of praise from Mr. Turner, one could see in the distance a rock with several figures seated upon it, and every minute, the ship drew closer to it. The sound was blood curdling and not appealing in the least to Elizabeth, who thought she might be sick again as it grew louder and reverberated through her aching head. She wished now that she'd been permitted to use something to dull her hearing as she tried her best to hold a hand over one ear and still keep a grip on the wheel, unable to contain the gurgling whimpers that yearned to escape her. A hand was laid on her shoulder and she turned to find Cotton standing behind her. He gestured for her to step aside, he'd apparently been ordered to take her place. She left the helm, clamping her hands tightly over her ears and standing alongside Barbossa. In the same moment, Will had taken to increasing the volume of what had escalated into a tantrum.

"Let me go! Barbossa! Bloody hell would you at least look at me you belligerent old bastard!" Barbossa acted as if he heard nothing, which further enraged the willing captive. "I have to be set free, I must go to them. I'll die. . . Elizabeth! Your sword, cut me loose! It's my destiny, I was meant to do this! Please, you must understand! Elizabeth!" She could only look at him in bewilderment before turning away.

While certainly eerie, no one would ever deny that the sight of the sirens had been magnificent, to say the least. Many sailors had decided to get an eyeful; despite the beautiful beings being tainted with deadly temptation, for they also had nothing with which to hide their feminine attributes. 'Evilly winsome' was the term that Gibbs would use years later, and it caught on with most of the crew afterwards as well. Elizabeth thought that 'repulsive' was a far more fitting word to describe them; Barbossa and Will never said anything, always going silent and solemn at the mention of them.

Most fascinating to look at, the upper body resembling that of a woman, save for the unnaturally bright eyes, and below the waist, bright plumage that was unlike anything of the world, but never in the least detracting from their carnal appeal. And Will felt that they were calling for him alone, they assured him that no one else dare approach them, that they'd give in to every whim and fancy and burning desire that he'd be ashamed to confide in anyone but himself. Or would have been. He let loose with language that not even Barbossa would have expected from the son of Bootstrap Bill, leaving both Elizabeth and the captain taken slightly aback as he continued demanding that he be freed and allowed to 'decide his own fate'. The foolish rampage was at it's worst as they passed by the terrible beings, and gradually declined to enraged howling as they passed and he slowly came to grips with the fact that no one was about to cut him loose and allow him to jump to his own demise, though he still struggled and writhed against his bonds in fervent denial. In the end, it had gone fairly well, though Will wished he hadn't behaved so unbecomingly in front of Elizabeth; he rued it long afterwards, but if given the opportunity again, probably still wouldn't have changed a thing.

Once the perilous seat of the sirens had been clean out of sight for a good hour, Barbossa wordlessly walked over to the mast and unloosed the equally silent Will Turner, who met his captain dead in the eye for a quick moment before disappearing below deck. He reemerged for a while for their celebratory keg party later that night. It seemed no one realized just how great a danger they'd been in until after it had passed and they had had time to think it over. This caused everyone to become a bit giddy with relief, and even Barbossa seemed to be in unusually good spirits, though he remained fairly quiet. Let the men be giddy and get a little bit drunk, God knew they had certainly earned it. A few sheets to the wind also meant distraction from other things, more that likely; no one noticed their captain slyly stealing away to have a word with his student and honorary first mate. He was mildly disturbed by her lackluster appearance, it was a stark contrast to her usual spitfire temperament. She gave him a sidelong glance.

"I'm sorry, Captain", she stuttered. He furrowed his brow in response.

"Fer what?" he asked quietly.

"I'm afraid I wasn't of much use today, unless there was some point in me whimpering like a child during a storm."

"An ounce of prevention, Miss Swann." He narrowed his eyes, adding, "And lies don't become you."

She dropped her gaze to the deck. There had been that uncertain moment, when there seemed to be some inner battle waging within him as she had stood at his side, and for a split second, he had jerked forward the slightest little bit, longing apparent in his eyes as he surveyed the demonic seductresses from his place on deck. Whether or not he actually would have gone further would never be known, but someone had caught him by the arm in that split second, snapping him back into reality where he no longer heard the beckoning and promises of unending lustful pleasures, but the entirely unbecoming and degrading wails of someone who had been stupid enough to wish this upon himself and be roped to the mast like a lunatic. A reality where he was captain of a ship and leading a crew that for the most part, trusted him and would wait for his next command. A reality where a frightened woman less than half his age clung to the sleeve of his coat, and was not in the least bit thrilled about inheriting that captaincy from him. Undoubtedly an uncertain moment in which they'd both behaved rather uncharacteristically, but no one would ever know, and neither of them would admit it aloud, at least not tonight.

**A/N:** Thanks to all for being patient with me, I know it's been a while since I updated. I seem to have come down with a nasty cold and it took it's toll on me. I don't think this is one of my best chapters, but then again they say that you are your own worst critic. And yes, that's yet another deliberate LOST reference coming this time from the delectable Will Turner. I hope you liked the latest installment, and reviewers get a free bottle of my signature green apple wine!


	7. Ecclesiastes 4:11

**_Chapter 7_**

The experience seemed to have put Will somewhat at ease; he was more willing now to take lead of situations and be there both in body and mind, no longer letting his eyes glaze over when he watched the sea. He wore an entirely different expression now, some felt that he bore a striking resemblance to Barbossa, but no one dared say it. While his change in behavior was certainly a relief to the sullen companion he'd become, no one could deny that he still wasn't quite the same Will Turner they'd met a year ago. He'd changed, and certainly for the better. This one was more learned, slower to speak and quicker to action. He was fast developing into a man of the helm, and it seemed that if he didn't let his head get too big for his shoulders, he'd be someone to be reckoned with, that at least was clear. The only times he appeared to be shrinking back into the whelp he once was, were when his thoughts dwelt on the broken man who shared his name. It was in those rare times when he preferred to be secluded from everyone, wearing a vexed look upon his face. Despite the moments of apparent weakness and emotional turmoil that he went through, he was quickly coming to be admired by many, though he wouldn't know it quite yet. Oftentimes he was boisterous and loud and uncharacteristically flippant, garnering admiration from his shipmates. On a night when he was behaving particularly brashly, Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the painfully proper man she'd once known; not that his behavior didn't suit him, he seemed made for it, but she wasn't sure that she liked it, either. She decided to take her question to someone who undoubtedly had knowledge on the subject, marching toward Barbossa, who was watching the evening's festivities from afar with a decadent grin on his face. She rolled her eyes when she noticed the small figure that clambered about on his shoulders. She couldn't fathom how he tolerated the thing; for someone who was generally snappish and short-tempered, he certainly seemed to have the oddest sentimental attachment to the creature. She was only glad for the cloudiness of that evening so she wouldn't have to look at its exposed skeletal features. His smile softened a bit when he caught sight of her.

"He puts on a fine spectacle. Looks like Jack'll have competition once he joins us."

"If anyone were to ask me, I'd say he were losing his mind."

"No, Miss. He's losing somethin' alright, but it's not his mind, not by a long shot." He grinned at her bemused state and continued. "It's only the look what all young men wear when they're falling hopelessly and irreversibly in love."

"Yes, refusing to hold or kiss me is most definitely a sign of hopeless love, I'm sure."

He took it as a sign of trust that she'd babbled on to him about a fairly sensitive subject, but kept it to himself. "What makes you think I was referrin' to you?"

A moment passed, and then she understood. She was losing Will for the very same reason that Jack could never be tied down to any one person or place. This newfound quest to reclaim his father was only a small part of it. In truth, she'd suspected it strongly for some time now, but hadn't been willing to accept it in her mind, not yet. And she still wasn't sure that she wanted to, at least not at that moment, when she found her captain's eyes wildly searching her face for a reaction. More than likely that he already knew, but to openly admit it seemed somehow akin to defeat. That was beside the fact that she took a wicked enjoyment in not letting him know quite what she was up to, especially when she knew he wanted surety on the subject so very badly. What she didn't know was that despite the fact, he was willing to let it be for he enjoyed it just as much. She pretended to shoot a concerned look toward Will, if only to avoid the silent confrontation from Barbossa, who again was urged by his intuition to get her mind on something else at the moment.

"How'd ye do it Elizabeth?" He asked, not even attempting to hide the curiosity that ate away at him. She, however, remained puzzled.

"How did I do what?"

"You said you tricked Jack Sparrow. S'no easy feat, I should know. I was merely curious as to how ye managed to pull it off." She stood thoughtfully for a moment before answering.

"Persuasion."

"Aye, I figured as much," he replied, unimpressed. "What sort of 'persuasion'?" The tone of his voice gave away the fact that he already had a fair idea, but wanted to hear it from her himself. He smiled. The way she flushed the most interesting shade of red and averted her gaze from his at all costs had been answer enough. He let out a small laugh.

"No matter, I'll get it figured out sooner or later. So will you," he said with an honest smile, inwardly laughing to himself. He'd done it again. There she was, shaking her head and trying determinedly not to let on that she'd been bested by him once more. Trying even more determinedly, he noted with satisfaction, not to let on that she enjoyed it. He knew as most men did, that if a woman was teased long enough, one of two things would inevitably happen. He had a fairly good idea of which he'd be on the receiving end of and found himself growing slightly impatient over it, but he'd had longer waits in his time, and knew that patience was a virtue. He nodded toward the crew, now uproarious at Will's so-called spectacle.

"Why don't ye go an' join 'em?"

"Don't you think that sail out to be secured a bit better?" she shrugged, dodging his question. He only chuckled and scratched Jack's head.

"You didn't answer my question, Captain."

"You didn't answer mine, and I asked first," he replied with a delightfully jaunty smile.

She laughed, honestly and without sarcasm, for the first time he could recall her doing so.

"Ye should do that more often, it suits you."

"If you say so," she said in a would-be light tone. In truth, she had begun to wonder why she was standing there, bantering with a somewhat aged pirate captain instead of enjoying the antics of her fiancé. It was a bit unsettling to her, as it should have been, but her adventurous side couldn't help but find the fact oddly refreshing and certainly not without its intrigue. She only had yet to figure out why; or rather, why not? Had she begun her acquaintance with him on different terms, would she have thought of him any differently than she did Jack? A gentleman to begin with, a bit rough around the edges, one might say, but prone at any given moment to throw it all aside for the sake of his own profit. Conniving, relentless, and selfish to be sure, but not lacking the undeniable qualities of charm and class. She sighed and let her gaze drop, feeling guilty. Will had taken more risks for her than most would have experienced in a lifetime, and here she was, considering the amicable and enchanting qualities of Captain Barbossa. She thought for a moment that perhaps she ought to just go on over and give Will moral support in whatever he was doing at the moment, but to what end? Things had become increasingly awkward between them, and in the times she had done such, it seemed as if she'd been the wet blanket to his bonfire, so she had taken to just sitting things out. It wasn't her fault that most of the time she ended up having some sort of playful philosophical or moral debate with their captain, was it? Maybe nothing was anybody's fault anymore, maybe they were all simply victims of life's circumstances.

"Why all those fervent lessons, Captain?" she asked him.

He closed his eyes; this question was inevitable and in all honesty, he had not been looking forward to it. He wasn't exactly sure why he'd been so insistent on her apprenticeship; save for the simple fact that he'd overestimated her and now felt rather badly about it. He did know, however, that admitting it to her would injure her pride. Despite her proper upbringing, she had the heart of a renegade, which would not appreciate such an injury. Shame there was no other way around it.

"I suppose I need to extend my apologies to you once again, Miss. I shouldn't have expected so much outta ye. 'Twas a bit thoughtless of me, I suppose." He forced a smile, realizing that she wasn't the only one who's pride was injured by the whole ordeal. She mirrored his expression.

"But not completely wasted, I'm sure", she said softly, deciding that the sudden obligatory apology seemed very unbecoming to his personality.

He tsked. "Now, don't be goin' soft on me. Though ye do have a point; there'll likely be rough waters ahead, you'll be worth your weight in gold then."

"Coming from you, I'm not sure if I should interpret that comment about my weight as a compliment or an insult", she said with suspicion, hands on her hips.

"Could be both", he quipped. She turned her back to him, not so much out of irritation as being unable to look at the stupid, charming expression on his face without laughing. No matter, he still heard the telltale sniggering that she had let slip and laughed teasingly in response. She inwardly cursed herself for her childish behavior and lack of self-control. _'Walk away. Just walk away now Elizabeth, you're not obligated to say anything back, and he's already won this one.' _Most of the time, our common sense is very wise, and we know that we should listen to it more often than we do. It is more than likely that our hard-headed nature, and in Elizabeth's case, the undying need to always have the last word, that overrides it. A daunting feat, when one's opponent is equally passionate about the cause. Her struggle to grasp for a biting response to his cheekiness was interrupted when the ship suddenly lurched to one side and she stumbled backwards, now clearly aware of the fact that her sea legs weren't nearly as learned as his. He only faltered back a pace or two, catching her as she tumbled backwards. She took hold of his arms, pulling herself to her feet and trying to regain balance before fully realizing the proximity between them. Her heart began to race as it had done that first night, but the fear that had gripped her then could hardly be felt, and it seemed as if a part of her had wanted for this to happen in some way. Maybe she had turned to face him on her own accord, maybe he'd taken her by the shoulders and eased her about. Regardless of how, they now stood facing one another. She felt that maybe she should have backed away, run away even, but found herself once again fixated on him, his eyes in particular. She suddenly felt it necessary to justify the situation in her mind, coming up only with weak and somewhat stupid excuses such as the growing cold being reason for her tolerance of the way he held her in his arms, pulling her steadily and closer to him, ever denying the real reason she didn't turn on her heels and flee. Perhaps she was frightened of her own willingness to be caught in this position, or maybe it was the wild look in his eyes that caused her to tremble so when he leaned closer, the space between them becoming steadily smaller. She had an undeniable and nearly untamable curiosity to give in and help him close that gap, fighting desperately to keep her eyes open. A sudden screech from above made it unnecessary for her to fight any longer; it was accompanied by a small primate crashing learnedly onto her shoulder before springing off and perching itself amongst some rigging and looking down to hiss at her. She'd recovered from her start enough to glare at it before once again taking in her surroundings and becoming inexplicably jittery about them. She pushed away from Barbossa, biting her lip nervously and unable to look him in the eye.

"Let go." She was becoming panicky and continued to wriggle.

He frowned. "Don't get excited."

"Captain, being held by you is hardly enough to get me _excited_." She was flustered, confused, and her hatred of Captain Sparrow's namesake had just been rekindled.

Barbossa released his hold on her, the hints of a low growl apparent in his sigh, but his expression held a steady, satisfied calm about it. "Apologies. I _tried_." He laughed huskily, a wicked grin spreading across his face that only hid his inner irritation. He glanced up at Jack, who appeared to be rather satisfied with his actions. His master inwardly cursed the creature's possessiveness towards him. At times he was pleased with it, but now was one of the times in which it was a pure nuisance. He made a mental note to keep a better eye on him. Meanwhile, he turned his attention back to Elizabeth, who meandered around on deck in no particular direction with her arms crossed, briskly rubbing her hands against them in an attempt to ward off the wind and snow that cascaded down upon the ship. He gritted his teeth as he opened the door to his cabin and turned round with a nod.

"Get in here before ye chill to death," he said kindly. She gave him an awkward, slightly shy look before turning and entering the cabin as he held the door for her. It wasn't a terribly profound difference from the almost deathly chill outside, but it provided some relief, nonetheless. She seated herself on a couch by the window and was promptly offered something to drink. She watched him thoughtfully as she took less than conservative sips of it. He laughed.

"That's not very becoming, Elizabeth."

"There's no need to stand on ceremony, Captain," she replied, her eyes dancing. "And besides, you were no more becoming the first time you drank with me. In fact, if I remember right, you ended up hurling the bottle in my direction after already terrifying the wits out of me." He stopped to stare at her with a glare that either meant he strongly disapproved of what she'd just said or that his thoughts at the moment were terribly impure. She smiled at the thought, oddly embracing the fact that neither option frightened her anymore.

"Now I've told you about unfortunate incident before," he said, pointing a finger at her.

"Yes, I know. Bygones, of course. But you brought it up."

"I'm sure," he sneered, taking a seat at the table and propping his feet up on a chair.

"You drink wine, Captain. Why?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"It's just that most other pirates, well, they seem to prefer rum."

"Like I said, once a gentleman. Wine for a more refined breed," he smiled and took another drink.

"And a gentleman no longer because?" she questioned.

He shot her a debonair grin. "It didn't suit me, really. Propriety and rituals and traditions. Nothing more than a big, superfluous show from the so-called 'higher society members' to make 'emselves appear dignified when behind closed doors, they're no better than what I've become." He looked at her knowingly. "Seems it didn't suit you, either." She didn't speak for a while, and when she did it was only to press him for more on his past experiences with propriety. He was in the midst of recounting some event of the beginnings of his miscreant days when she thought to herself that he certainly had a talent for storytelling. She continued to listen as she watched out the window, and was reminded of her childhood in England by the snowflakes softly falling outside. Many nights she had spent like this in her bedroom, lulled to sleep by the flittering white shower and the sound of her parents conversing either with each other or guests in the parlor. Barbossa looked up to find her doing so in that very moment, lying there in his cabin, curled up and sleeping soundly as if there weren't a care in the world. Simple contentment spread across her delicate features; not quite a woman, but no longer a child. And not a bloody thing in the world he could do about it. So close and yet still unreachable. _'Damn'_, he thought to himself, feeling that this time around, she was honestly just worn out and hadn't deliberately fallen asleep there to torment him with what he couldn't yet have. It was becoming plain that the journey was taking it's toll on her both physically and emotionally, and he was glad for her sakes that it was nearly over. At the moment, he had to deal with the fact that she was still in fact betrothed to another man and lay there asleep in his personal quarters. He had the fleeting thought of just leaving her there for the night; she looked rather innocent and endearing in her current position. He sighed. No, she'd have to be removed, too many unpleasant situations could arise from it. He strode over to where she lay, reluctant to wake her.

"Elizabeth. Elizabeth, yer gonna have to get up," he whispered. No response. He furrowed his brows for a moment, a reluctant but delightful smile appearing as he realized he only had one option. He quietly stole outside for a moment to prop open the door to her cabin before returning inside and stealthily lifting her into his arms. He glanced back at his own bed, a particular passage of Scripture taking him somewhat by surprise as it came rushing back to him. He laughed softly at the memory, much as he'd done when his captain had first pointed it out to him. He shook his head, thinking once again that it would take Jack Sparrow to pervert something that was supposed to be holy, though at the moment it made perfect sense. _'Ecclesiastes 4:11 . . ._ _I'm sure I'll be thankin' him for that one.' _He pushed the thought aside however, for the time being, still reluctant that he couldn't teach Elizabeth the meaning of the verse, but deciding his patience had been well worth it as soon as he stepped outside. She shuddered against the cold, nestling against him and even reaching an arm firmly around his neck, eliciting a grin from him the likes of which he hadn't worn in years. He had meant to be quick about placing her in the proper quarters that night, but she'd wake up the next morning wondering when she'd taken her boots off and how she'd ended up with a blanket that hadn't been there before. As she somewhat blearily emerged from her cabin, she'd be met with a greeting from her captain that refreshed her memory to last night's events and also let her know that she would never be allowed to live them down. He'd quickly slipped away before she had a chance to reply, thoroughly enjoying the look of mortification and contempt that he elicited from her with the comment.

"Good morning, Miss Swann," he'd said, his haughty smile wider than usual. "I can attest now, that you are most _definitely _worth yer weight in gold."

**A/N: **Again, I'm sorry for the long wait, but my muse got all shy and reserved on me. I really do appreciate you all hanging in there with me through my spells of Writer's Block. I am by no means quitting this, as it's far too much fun to write. I must give credit to Lady Gwen and Lady Bootstrap for being so very influential and supportive to me on this story. Lots of fluffiness in this chapter, and yes, more deliberate references this time round, one from Lost and the other from Empire Strikes Back. I think it's just about time we brought Captain Jack back into the picture, don't you? Also I'd love feedback on how I'm characterizing Barbossa now that we're getting into the meatier stuff between him and Liz. The last thing I want to do is make Barbs too soft, so slap me if I head in that direction, kay? Oh and one last thing, to anyone curious about Ecclesiastes 4:11, this is how it reads in the King James Version: "Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?"


	8. Full Circle For Captain Jack

_**Chapter 8 **_

**Disclaimer: **I happen to _have_ no disclaimer in my cabin . . .

_A ship. A ship with black sails_. Thus had been the beginning of many tales of the infamous _Black Pearl_. Fear and legend had always gone fore and aft its wake, and its demise, yet always it had been a thing of glory and awe. Though dejected and lonely, it looked so even now, and seemed as if it were once again a ghost ship as it sat in the heavy fog, unanchored but unmoving. No wind billowed its ebony sails; they hung limp and drab in the failing afternoon light. Such it was as she was approached by the _Orpheus_ and her tentative but resolute crew, regarding it now with heavy uneasiness and wonderment. Oddly enough, it was all in one piece and looked as if it had just come from being refitted. It gave them much the same feeling as they'd gotten from their captain that first day at sea, not sure whether he was something to be feared or marveled, knowing that he'd been destroyed, and should not have been standing amongst them, full of life and a lust for it. He observed the ship that had been his home for so long with an expression that was altogether impossible to decipher.

It was possible, however unlikely, that he himself could not make up his mind how he felt at the moment, for though it had been home, it had also been prison. Perhaps Elizabeth felt the same way, as old memories of coins and wine-colored dresses came hazily into her mind. She distanced herself from Barbossa ever so slightly, recalling a side of him that she did not particularly care to as they drew closer still to the vessel that had taken her on only disastrous journeys. _'And yet you keep getting back on it'_, she reminded herself. The faraway look in her eyes gave the captain a fairly good idea of what was going through her head, and she realized that it would have been safe to say he was staring at her again, and without saying a word, he reminded her that she'd boarded it of her own accord on that first night so long ago. Had it been his intent or not, she was also reminded of how he'd been unable that night, to completely hide his admiration of her spirit, how she did not start to cry out or blubber upon realization that he had no intentions of returning her to shore, and surely she'd caught the look in his eyes that had bored into her own with such insatiable and shameless desire when she'd naively finalized her bargain with him, surely she had at least some idea of what he'd intended to happen once his curse was lifted. His eyes narrowed. _And surely, you also know that I think differently of you now. _His face softened as he turned away, ending their silent converse.

She hesitated a moment or two before following after him, something Will had noticed she had become more wont to do as of late, and for some reason, it didn't bother him as much as he knew it should have. He stood and watched for a short moment as the ship drew up to the _Pearl _and a plank was laid between the two ships before following after them, albeit at a fair distance. They'd been traveling now over open water for so long, that it seemed a bit surreal to finally be at journey's end, and to have their destination laid out before them and so plainly accessible at that. Barbossa stepped off the plank and onto the deck with a dull thud that did not resound, Elizabeth and Will came shortly after. The three of them were no doubt experiencing at least a bit of nostalgia upon their arrival, as was the rest of the crew who were to stay behind for the time being, but still watched at a distance. The captain had been rather silent and evasive about what was to happen after locating the ship. He mounted the stairs to the helm now with casual resolve and a blank expression on his face, but smiled inwardly at the timid footsteps behind him. Petty romantic satisfaction aside, he was glad she'd come without having to be persuaded. He had sensed from the beginning that she and Jack had some sort of unfinished business that needed to be resolved, for her sake mostly, as he felt she was probably making more out of whatever it was than she ought to have been; something he felt was simply typical of females, the honorable ones at least. As much as he would have liked to dwell on her admirable aspects a bit longer, the task at hand detracted from it. As he'd suspected, an all too familiar figure sat slumped with his back against the wheel, looking altogether dejected. While Barbossa certainly held no great love for the man, he found the sight of him looking so morose truly disturbing. For the first known time, it seemed Jack Sparrow had been unable to swindle himself out of a tight predicament. It was highly unlikely that anyone had seem him such before, with a frown on his tanned face and his hat pulled over his eyes. Even during his many stays in a prison of some sort, he'd always sported his carefree, optimistic grin. He raised his head now upon hearing them approach, but didn't turn towards them.

"'Bout time you got here, you bloody prat. I suppose having Eternity in front of you, you're not inclined to be in a terrible hurry then, aye?"

Barbossa smiled, shaking his head. There was nothing like Captain Jack Sparrow in poor spirits; he still managed to be terribly impudent, no matter whom he was speaking to.

"Shut up, Jack. You're the one with Eternity in front of you."

Jack rose from his place with an abrupt start, whirling round to face his old adversary with a look of combined contempt, shock and awe. He quickly recovered, replacing it with a haughty smirk.

"Apologies. I thought you were Saint Peter come to escort me to the Pearly Gates.

"Perhaps I'm not," replied Barbossa with a disturbingly complacent smile as his hand strayed to the Spanish flintlock on his belt. "But I can still introduce you to Eternity." He cocked the pistol and pointed it at Jack, the smile never leaving his face. Will would have rushed for him, had it not been for Elizabeth quickly catching him by the arm. She had come to know the captain well enough to realize that he was only playing a sadistic game. Jack merely glared daggers at him. Barbossa held the smile for a moment more before lowering his weapon and offering an outstretched hand. Jack eyed it with more than a little suspicion. Will had managed to calm down from his temporary abandonment of alliance and gain back a rational way of thinking.

"It's alright, Jack. We've managed to come this far with him with both our lives and our entrails intact." He surprised even himself by letting a smile spread over his comely features as he realized the ironic truth to his statement. Barbossa had indeed proven to be a man of his word, and Will no longer doubted that he'd still hold up his end of the deal as far as pursuing the _Dutchman _as well as his father's redemption. He may rue for a while what would be lost in the process, but dismissed it as fated to happen regardless of how. Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Jack accepted the offered hand and the two stood regarding one another. As Elizabeth had learned earlier, one did not necessarily have to use words to communicate with Barbossa, and after a short while, it was apparent that the two captains had reached some sort of agreement. It was odd that day, to see the two of them getting along, and one got a glimpse of what they might have been like before animosities formed, in their days of glory when they actually held some liking for one another. Things were still however, tense between them, as it had been a forced truce, much like the one Will had made, and Elizabeth did not pretend to ignore the look of jealousy that came over Barbossa's face when Jack was brought aboard the _Orpheus_, met by uproarious cheering and many rough embraces from the crew. When they'd first set out on their voyage, she probably would have liked nothing better than to see his pride injured so, but now found that it caused her inexplicable depression, and suddenly wondered why he was often underappreciated. True, he had certainly left an unsavory reputation behind him before, but who among them had never done something selfish and dishonorable in order to save their own skin? She cringed at the thought that hit all too close to the mark for her as well. She retreated into a quiet corner that evening, wishing herself a little time to do nothing but wallow in her own guilt, doubt, and self-pity, but it was not to be so. She wondered why this man couldn't just leave her in peace once in a while, but he of all people knew that spending too much time with one's poor spirits was not the most beneficial thing to one's health and well-being. He couldn't stop the smirk forming on his face when she immediately began spouting off to him.

"Look," she said, gesturing towards Jack. "It's like nothing even happened, as if I never . . . I don't understand how he can be so carefree after all this."

He smiled grimly. "Always was too easy-going, except when it was his own skin on the line. Easily swayed, easily swindled. Perhaps not as much now as before. Suppose I'm the one to thank for teachin' him that lesson." He turned to Elizabeth. "Regardless, I'm sure he doesn't think less of you for what you did to 'im. But I'm guessing by the look on your face that angry words would be more welcome than none at all." Her downcast eyes were answer enough to his remark. "He'll come 'round eventually, Miss. Under that facade of his, he's not well. I should know. As should you." She rolled her eyes, smiling darkly. "Though it's nice to see that part of you growin' weaker," he added with a slight laugh. She glared at him upon the implication of weakness.

"Don't call the kettle black, Captain. I don't doubt that the person you were a year ago would have done differently than you did just the other night."

"You implying that I've gotten weak on us?" he asked with an astute grin. "'Cause I'd say that's hardly the case, unless it were the other way round." The smile left her face. She didn't like at all the way he seemed to see through her attempts at deceit, though she desperately wanted someone to call her on it, to admit that it wasn't fooling anyone, least of all themselves. She had not, however, expected to find that person in Barbossa. Then again, she hadn't expected that she would find herself still unmarried, sailing on a voyage to hell and back under the command of someone she had thought would only be a memory, a dark but intriguing chapter of her life, closed. Yet now he stood before her, as spirited and willing to parry at words as ever, and as much as she was reluctant to admit it, he was also rather charming in his witty and hardheaded behavior. As for the statement just made, she merely folded her arms and grew red in the face, refusing to look at him. She was a bit unnerved, but not at all surprised to find a pair of hands resting on her shoulders, he smiled admirably and not without sympathy at her sour and slightly defeated expression.

"Don't swallow your own medicine too well, do ya?" He found her atypical unwillingness to banter somewhat disheartening, and the look on her face was begging him not to tease her tonight.

"I would suppose not," she said begrudgingly. "I could swallow some port at the moment though, if you don't mind," she added, still pouting.

"Shameless little brat, aren't you?" He snorted somewhat incredulously, but with a smile, still producing the desired drink, however he was stingier with it than usual. She was forward with her disapproval of his actions; he was adamant about them, only allowing her small amounts and taking copious ones for himself. _"Can't have you fallin' asleep in indecent places again now, can we?" _was always his pertinacious excuse. Though she was thoroughly perturbed with this after a while, she could not deny that her spirits had been lifted. Roguish companionship seemed to be the kind best suited for the task of lifting her from a sulky mood, and in reality, all she had to do was employ an especially sorrowful set of broken-hearted eyes and he'd temporarily abandon his will and feign reluctance at giving her what she requested of him. He smiled teasingly now, raising the bottle up over his head and more importantly, out of her reach.

"That's not fair, you always finish it," she laughed, and before she realized what she was doing, she found herself snatching at it. In doing so, she'd unwittingly pushed herself closer to him, finding herself pressed closely against him and in that moment, unable to move. He still held the wine above him, but it was presently forgotten by both. His gaze upon her, for once did not smack of taunting and only held the slightest bit of challenge, she would say later that he was simply 'there', although his face did have a small hint of reluctant anticipation. He didn't know if he dared hope that it might happen, and so just stood still and patient, with her pressed up against his chest. She stared up at him, both apprehensive and fascinated, although a small part of her tried to fight it. She pushed back her inner resistance, slowly, her hands came to rest on his shoulders and of their own accord, took hold of his coat. Her fascination about to drive her mad, she decided to finally silence her hesitation, unable to bear it any longer, closing her eyes as she tilted her chin up, bringing her face ever closer to his own.

Only then did his odd tranquility come to an end, he'd grown impatient with her overt caution; she was taken slightly aback, but not at all displeased, when he somewhat aggressively snatched her into a tight embrace, causing their faces to collide in a manner that was in short, rather pleasant. She felt that there was something almost frighteningly titillating about the way he held her so tightly, one arm around her waist, and a gentle, but commanding hand on the back of her head as he claimed her lips with stormy confidence. Whether or not it may have seemed horribly wrong, the most natural thing for her to do in the moment was to slip her arms around his neck, albeit a bit timidly, but she knew he was smiling. Though the situation at hand may have failed to surprise either of them, perhaps they were each surprised with how the other reacted. She with his sensitivity, she had always thought of him as the sort to be rough and uncaring; the way he maintained control of their embrace without being ungentle was the undoing of her senses and self-restraint. He was equally taken off guard by her willingness and acceptance of his actions, but nonetheless very pleased. She'd been a bit rigid and apprehensive at first, but soon reciprocated with strong enthusiasm; the encounter was not subtle nor did either of them withhold. And when they finally parted, him with a seductive smile and her rendered breathless from the headiness of it all, they failed to realize that they had been seen by a wide-eyed, highly confused Jack Sparrow, who sashayed below deck before being noticed, a thousand questions and thoughts rushing through his already aching head. He figured he had better shrug it off for the time being; he had been apt to hallucinate quite often in the past few days, this was probably nothing more than just that. . .

Elizabeth was speechless and at a loss for words, much to the amusement of her companion. He only smiled and held her snugly against him before lightly placing another kiss to her lips and resigning for the evening. He wordlessly handed her the bottle in his hand that had been forgotten and strode calmly towards his cabin. Always he had enjoyed being the victor, but never had he enjoyed a battle quite so much. While she was also left with much to think over that night, she was nagged by the realization that the solitude she once enjoyed in her cabin was no longer as refreshing and welcome as it once had been.

**A/N: **Thought I was gonna tease again, didn't you?


	9. Wordless Agreement

_**Chapter 9**_

**_Disclaimer:_** The _Orpheus_ is mine. So are Will and Barbossa. Mine, my own, my precious. Jack Sparrow belongs to himself. Elizabeth and Barbossa belong to each other. The rest of the crew is furiously picking at the Haliburton type shackles that say "Disney" clapped to their ankles. If only . . .

"We egg short, we filter, we flinch and smack . . . oh bloody hell that's not right." Jack stood at the railing of the _Orpheus_, rubbing his temples and repeatedly blinking his eyes. "We're devilish black sheep with really bad legs . . . no, that's not right either." He turned round and addressed any crew members about, who may or may not have been paying any attention to his quiet attempts at singing to himself. "Pay me no mind, gentlemen. Merely experimenting, nothing' to see." He turned back around and sighed. _'Not gonna be as easy as I'd hoped . . .' _he thought, glancing over to see Barbossa swaggering about the deck with little effort and frowned. It would seem that he had wasted his shot, after all. Had he been able to think properly at the moment, he might have grown irritated beyond measure at the audacity of his former first mate, having the gall to rise from the dead like that. However, the only thought his mind would allow for the time being was one that he was begrudging to give in to. The only person what could help him gain back a sense of normalcy and independence was the one person he would really not rather speak to very much if he could help it. And that was the reason why he would put it off for as long as humanly possible. There had been bad blood between them for over ten years, what difference would a few more days make?

-

Barbossa's unabashed stare had made a comeback. Following her wherever she happened to go, only now it was a good deal less lecherous and more debonair. Not that it was without traces of shameless lust, but he did manage to keep that in check a good deal better than before. She was still cautious about meeting his gaze though, for fear this time her eyes would give her away. She'd been careless enough to allow herself to be ensnared by the captain's charms, but was still stubborn about admitting that she was going in far over her head with the situation, as well as treading a path from which she would never be able to return. She did privately admit to herself, however, that she had very much enjoyed the ensnarement, secretly but desperately longing for the opportunity to get captured again. They hadn't spoken to each other since their romantic encounter the previous night, but both knew for certain that care should be taken not to be too casual about their unspoken conversations. So for the time being, he shot her a quick wink that caused her to tingle from head to toe, smiling satisfactorily before he approached the newly-retrieved Captain Jack, still bewilderingly trying to recall snatches of the song.

"Jack." He was ignored, but not to his surprise.

"Lizzie, Lizzie what's the song?" Jack asked, as if Barbossa was not there. "Come on, teach it to me, there's time, lots of time."

She opened her mouth as if to speak but found that words were unwilling to form. She thought his behavior was disturbing, even for him. It was as if he were only a small remnant of his former self, unable to completely relate to them anymore. She was not alone in her observations.

"Jack, you need to get below deck and outta this air."

Jack whirled round to face him like an impertinent child to his schoolmaster. "Oh, yes, because the air below deck is so much less stagnant and more breathable. No thank you. Fine right here. On you way then." He made a shooing gesture with his hands before turning round again to face the inky expanse that surrounded them.

"Jack!" Barbossa snapped, his tone no longer subdued. "I wasn't askin'."

"Jack's I think he's right. You should probably get some rest." It was Will, who'd observed the scenario along with the rest of the crew and along with Gibbs, had decided to intervene before either of the captains lost his temper. Jack sighed dejectedly, knowing that they were right but was still completely unwilling to admit it, and yet he had hoped that he would be able to snap back on his own. He allowed Gibbs, albeit a bit reluctantly, to escort him below deck, but only with the condition that he be allowed something to drink.

"Aye, Jack, somethin' strong and warmin' to the bones is what you'll get," Gibbs had stated assuredly. Jack hadn't noticed the sly exchange of glances between his recent first mate and the former one. Barbossa had to laugh. It seemed that playing the part of saviour to Jack would be more amusing than he'd first anticipated. He'd press Gibbs for a full report on that later, for the time being, he was left with his two youngest crew members, both capable hands, however unlikely they may have seemed. They stood on either side of him; it was up for debate as to whether he tended to lean just a bit closer to one side than he did the other. Will stared thoughtfully at the deck before looking up.

"Captain, what's wrong with him? He's a perfect mess."

"Didn't think he could get any battier than he already was, did you?" Barbossa grinned. "Perhaps I didn't either, not to this extent, anyway. Most logical conclusion I can come to is that he never quite finished dyin'. 'Twould be easier to coax him back to his right state of mind if he'd been completely gone, but he's caught in between worlds, as it were, and the one what's been his abode for the last month or so isn't easily suffered to give up its dead, or undead, as it would seem." He read the uncertainty on Elizabeth's face. "He'll be fine, in time." Will was lost to them again, present in body but certainly not in thought. He didn't need to be asked where his thoughts dwelt, everyone knew by now what drove his resolve. Yet not even he could say what would happen once he had closed that chapter of his life. _'If we even live through it . . .' _He experienced a short moment of self-loathing over the fact that he was inevitably putting people's lives in danger with his quest and was not bothered by the thought, so intent was he on achieving his goal. He was slowly becoming the very sort of person that he had always sought to eliminate. _'Captain Jack Sparrow: Sacked Nassau Port without firing a shot. Captain Barbossa: So evil that Hell itself wouldn't have him. Captain William Turner . . .' _He stopped himself from thinking any further, convinced that thoughts like that could lead to no place good. At least not good by the thinking of any law-abiding man. The other side of him still couldn't help but wonder what sort of a reputation he would earn for himself in the coming years, secretly hoping that he would be able to at least equal those of the respective captains aboard. _'Though this was not my first love . . .'_

-

Gibbs emerged above deck sometime later, wearing an amused smile, even as he was approached by their captain.

"You get Jack his drink?" asked Barbossa, no longer able to suppress his amusement.

"Aye, sir. As you told me. All the coffee he can swallow."

"Strong and hot, like we promised, I hope."

Gibbs nodded, deciding that the captain did not need to know that he'd added something special to the brew. It was either keep something from the captain for the time being, possibly earn himself a verbal lashing, or listen to Jack's whimpering, whining and cursing over a lack of something alcoholic to pour down his throat. He decided the latter was much less tolerable. Nonetheless, he'd still shared a laugh with Barbossa over the idea of giving Jack naught but coffee, trying his best not to make anything over the captain's unusual mood. He'd learned that it was better not to question his sudden changes in behavior.

"You're both shameful scoundrels." Elizabeth had snuck up on them. She seemed to be developing Jack's uncanny ability of doing so.

"And that's just exactly why you love us so much," quipped Barbossa, somewhere between cheer and sarcasm. "Also it takes one to know one," he added, sparing her from a response to his previous remark for which she was grateful. She only rolled her eyes at their ornery behavior, not that she should have expected any better from pirates, she reminded herself. And yet he had certainly had a point, it just wouldn't be the same if they were well-behaved and somewhat considerate. So unlike Will; even now when he seemed more at ease with letting himself get a bit rowdy from time to time, he never failed to let his upbringing make the important decisions for him. She knew she would always love him, perhaps not in the way she had thought she would, but he would always hold a special in the framework of her life. It was a framework that now held many more pieces that she would have ever imagined it to, pieces both unusual and fascinating, frightening, odd and previously unfathomable. Rough pieces, smooth pieces, some in between, and some of interestingly contorted shapes. And a scattered few so hideously ugly that she was sure they were the stuff that nightmares were spawned from. And yet given the choice, she still would not have removed a single one. Nonetheless she couldn't help feeling just a bit uneasy and somewhat frightened at Barbossa's remark. He'd vocalized what had been in the back of her head for quite sometime, whether he realized it or not. Not that it hadn't been putting the proverbial tap on his shoulder late at night as well. A relentless haunt that was both welcome and bothersome at once. And she knew she had spent far more time than she probably should have reliving that lovely kiss. He spent just as much time looking forward to when it would happen again, which wouldn't be long, if he had his way. He smiled lasciviously now as he watched her at a distance, only doing simple shipboard tasks, but never had he enjoyed overseeing a crew member quite so much. Smiling also for the fact that he had, as foreseen, outwitted. Charmed. And though he would have enjoyed the challenge, no one had tried to stop him. At least not yet, but earning the trust and dare he say it, affections of young Miss Swann had been more than half the battle.

-

Painful reluctance. That is how it was for Hector Barbossa to see another man sail away with what he felt was rightfully his.

"Fittingly," Elizabeth said as she stood beside him, the _Pearl _heading off just a little ways ahead of _Orpheus_. " . . . and you got off quite easily if you ask me, Captain. He after all did have to see you sail away with that arrogant smile on your face more than once. Oh yes, and he didn't have the luxury of sailing along with you to ensure it was properly cared for. I also notice he's left you with enough supplies to stay alive, quite comfortably, for quite some time; there was also no attempt to turn your entire crew against you in order to - "

"Do you _ever_ quit talking?" He asked, growing irritated. She crossed her arms with a smirk.

"Well I don't know," she replied saucily. "Have you ever known me to?" He grinned at her with shrewdness, and she knew she'd left her defense down, but it was too late to throw that wall up now.

"Once," he replied, coming closer. She began taking cautious steps backward, not sure why she was attempting to escape the inevitable. He continued his slow pursuit until she was out of options, and stood just in front of his cabin door. Out of options, and out of sight, but certainly not out of his reach. The look on his face as he regarded her was nigh intoxicating and the feeling only grew stronger with each step closer that he took. Again, she wasn't sure if she should have felt nervous or delighted with his bold approach and suave expression, though perhaps in this instance, they went hand in hand. She was willingly helpless as he leaned in and kissed her, slowly this time, lingering whilst his hands dragged lazily up her arms, stopping to hold her firmly by the shoulders. She threw her arms about him once more in an attempt to bring them as close together as possible. He had meant to be somewhat of a tease about the situation, but couldn't help himself from going to simply holding her shoulders, to wrapping his arms around her in a possessive embrace and softly caressing her back. He pulled away only when she began to pursue _him_, but still held her close, and leaned down so their foreheads were touching. He smiled softly, stroking her cheek with his thumb and enjoying the sight of her gazing up at him with that look in her eyes. The one that wavered between lust and admiration, between desire and affection. He laughed just a bit, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her against him as he whispered,

"_Twice." _

She knew she'd been bested yet again, but for once enjoyed it immensely, dropping her gaze with a girlish smile and suddenly becoming occupied with smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on his coat. He couldn't stop from closing his eyes and thinking to himself how long it had been since a woman had fussed over him that way, and how it was so very enjoyable, not only in a pleasurable sense, but in the sense that causes one to feel of some value in an otherwise cruel world. Something that, for the most part, he was entirely unacquainted with. There was a price that came with upholding a reputation such as his, and it was the small things like this that made him rue it at times. For her, it was an entirely confusing state of being; there before her stood a man more than twice her age, fully capable of taking care of himself and in no great need of her attention, yet she felt an odd sort of need to do so, that perhaps he did need looking after. Whether or no, she certainly wanted to look after him, even if logically it should have been the other way round. He noted with concern that her expression had now twisted; she seemed to be struggling to keep something to herself. He frowned and attempted to delicately take her by the wrists and lean down to look her in the face, but she was rather adept at dodging emotional confrontations. Silently, she yanked one hand free and put her arm around him, the side of her face pressed snugly against his chest and eyes downcast. He rolled his eyes, having forgotten what complicated creatures women could be, but wrapped a protective arm round her anyways, knowing that the truth would come out of her sooner or later, though he'd much rather it be the sooner.

-

There was something about the _Black Pearl _that was undeniably iconic, and one felt as if they were part of some grand tale in the making just from being aboard. Will couldn't resist feeling a bit sentimental from his return to it. Before, it had been simply a ship, a means of getting from one point to another and achieving his goal, as it still was. But he may have grown slightly attached to the vessel after having led a battle in her defense, a battle that was lost, but he'd captained her for a short time nevertheless. He had to smile haughtily now as he resided before her mast, the wind playing it's chilly fingers through his dark, messy hair. Jack stalked behind him and stood regarding the boy for a few moments with more than a little suspicion.

"So, what is it you're up to, William?" Will turned to face him with a poorly feigned expression of puzzlement.

"Beg pardon, Jack?"

Jack gave a nod in the direction of the _Orpheus_. "You and Captain Lazarus over there. _Don't _pretend like you don't know what I'm on about, I've been in the business long enough to know when there's some sort of conspiracy afoot, Will. That - " he added with a grin, "and you're a terrible liar."

Will grimaced, but tried not to laugh. True, he might have been foolish to think he could have kept anything from Jack for very long, but it had been worth a shot. In a few short moments, he spilled out the so far vague details of the plan that he and Barbossa had plotted out together in his cabin on those grey afternoons. After a few moments of processing the plans in quiet thoughtfulness, Jack turned to him with an expression that was all but serious, and a bit reluctant. He rubbed his temples. Perhaps very reluctant. He faced Will now, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists in a rather bizarre manner.

"Will . . . I'm not one to admit it when I've been bested, but you've seen what Jones can do. Are you certain you want to sail us straight into the face of danger intentionally? Willingly?"

"Because sailing into the face of danger is never something you'd do intentionally."

Seemingly innocent ignorance crossed Jack's face as Will glared daggers at him, the boy had certainly grown more ill-tempered towards him than ever. Though he wasn't certain why, at least not yet. For the time being, the throbbing in his head that had become a companion was returning and being glared at by Will wasn't helping it in the least.

"I know, you don't have to tell me," continued Will in a tone that more than hinted at sarcasm. "Pirate."

"That's an interesting thing to say for someone who's in league with the man who once held a knife to his throat and dropped your dearly beloved into the ocean when he couldn't have her for himself."

"Perhaps it would have pained him too much to see her in the arms of another. I imagine that would have been quite disheartening. Wouldn't you agree, Jack?"

"Agree with what?" he asked a bit flippantly, though his stomach turned a bit with the statement. _'It was only a hallucination, Jack. Just death and lack of sleep andyour mind playing tricks on you, that's all . . .' _

"Never mind then. I'm sure it'll come back to you. Eventually. But presently I'd like you to at least consider our strategy. I'mgoing after my father, Jack. It's up to you if you want to come with me; though I daresay you owe it to him, no matter what he might say." His expression towards the captain was almost accusing.

"_I _owe it to him? William, I'm sure I don't have any idea what you could possibly mean by that."

He now found his face inches away from Will's. "Jack, he's in the position he is now because -"

"Because Barbossa tied 'im to a cannon and dropped 'im in the drink is why," Jack interrupted dryly.

"Because he stood up for _you_. He could have forsaken what his conscience knew to be right and simply laughed with the rest of them, unlike a good man. A good man, Jack, as I once called you. Don't prove me wrong, not this time."

Jack cringed. "Alright. Alright, fine. We pursue the bloody _Flying Dutchman_. I only hope you've weighed this all out in your mind, and you do realize that there's a good chance we'll be sent straight back to World's End for our troubles?"

Will nodded solemnly. "I did weigh it, and I've decided it's a chance I'm willing to take. I've nothing to lose now."

"What about dear darling Miss Swann?" asked Jack with furrowed brows. Will's statement had been out of character and caught him rather off guard. The younger man only sighed and bowed his head before giving a quiet reply and walking away, saying nothing more for hours afterwards.

"She belongs to no one but herself, Jack." The captain merely nodded and was left to his own thoughts.

-

There she stood yet again, as she did most every night when the weather was bearable, leaned over, staring into the deep indigo abyss of the ocean beneath them. Not that he minded, it normally led to some nice moments between them, sometimes in all seriousness, others in mischievous bouts of flirtation. It would seem though, that tonight was different. It looked as though she was trying to shrink into herself or completely away. Now or never would be the best time to pry, he deduced, and quietly came up behind her to lay a hand on her shoulder. She started a bit before turning to face him, not bothering to hide the tears that had silently slid down her face nor the way her lips were swollen and red from her blubbering. She tried to swat him away when he reached for her, but was forced into a possessive embrace despite it. She clenched her teeth and took in angry handfuls of his shirt with her face pressed tightly against his chest, trying stubbornly and without success not to be lulled by the steadiness of his breathing and the thump of his heartbeat. His frustration with her bottled up emotions was evident by the way he held her in a manner that was less than gentle. When it was unmistakably clear that he wasn't going to loosen his grip anytime soon, she recounted to him her earlier conversation with Will, before he had boarded the _Pearl_. She knew that what had been said between them had been inevitable, but found herself hating the finality of it all.

"_Elizabeth, may I have a word with you?" _

"_Of course, is everything alright?" _She had been unable to help herself from feeling at least a little proud of him, he'd grown so much in comparison to the naive and terribly proper young man that left Port Royale all those months ago, _'To save _you_'_, she reminded herself with more than a small pang of guilt.

"_Everything is fine, l-, Elizabeth. I just wanted to see you before we part ways." _Though his mind had been made up some weeks ago, he still found that referring to her as 'love' or 'darling' were habits that certainly died hard. Then again, why shouldn't he call her such? Jack always did. He reminded himself that he was not nor ever would be Jack Sparrow, and that such terms of endearment between himself and Elizabeth would be feasible in time, but this was not the time or place for them. Tentatively, he'd placed a pair of rough and calloused hands on her shoulders, willing his voice not to crack or falter, no matter what he felt like doing inside.

"_We both know that it's impossible to tell what will become of this desperate venture, but I do think we can both agree that fate seems to have drawn us apart . . ."_

She could only nod in response. He bit his lip, unable then to meet her eyes as he continued. _"I don't know what state I'll be in should I return, if I return at all. But . . . I do want you to know, that if love should find you before then, that I wish you nothing less than what you deserve." _She had snatched his hand with miserable pity for the both of them.

"_Will, don't do this. You don't owe me anything, not after all I've -"_ He shook his head.

"_It's alright," _he countered, actually managing a smile. _"I happen to believe, as do certain other people aboard, that the things of the past are best left that way." _She returned his smile, albeit a bit weakly, but it was apparent that the understanding that they both needed so badly for so long now had finally been reached. _"I do have to thank you for what you have given me, I've learned both love and loss, and I wouldn't change a thing even if I could." _He pulled her close, pressing his lips to her forehead in the most modest way possible, though she always thought that he had let his touch linger there longer than he had intended for it to. _"The best to you, Elizabeth Swann."_

He had then been prompt about turning on his heel, glancing back at her with a bittersweet smile before boarding the legendary _Black Pearl_, and she knew that he would never kiss her as his lover again. It was a knowledge that crushed as well as liberated, though as the day wore on, it caused her to grow more and more despondent and eventually into the tearful and bewildered state that she was as she stood crumpled in the captain's arms, a place she would have never thought to seek solace, at least not until now. Truth be told, as much as Barbossa enjoyed the thrill and scandal of stealing the governor's daughter away from her bold young suitor, he had grown slightly weary of it as he felt himself heading deeper into the situation than he'd ever planned on. She had become a glaring weakness to him, though he was loath to admit so. He had longed to take her in his arms since first setting eyes on her that night so long ago when he was but half the man he should have been; to take her with lust and passion and untamable carnal desire, however not completely against her will. He'd never been comfortable with resorting to the use of force with women; he had always thought of it as cowardly and unpleasant and certainly below himself. No, it seemed certain that the maid who had stood before him was quite convincible, even though she might have loathed the idea as well as him. Such a stark contrast to the current vulnerable condition she was in, and he thought it almost surreal that she had finally let that barrier fall and revealed her fears and worries, and even stranger was the fact that he was the one whom she was taking comfort in, instead of being the reason for comfort needed.

He rested his chin on her head as he held her closer, almost possessively. She still gripped fistfuls of his shirt, now damp with her frustrated tears, but she had become quieter, the sobs stilled for the time being, having been comforted to the occasional shudder than ran through her. It was, for a change, a pleasant and welcome silence, not awkward and uncomfortable. With unwavering surety and decisiveness, he wordlessly leaned down and lifted her into his arms. She made to reach about and embrace him, but stopped with a small whimper and reached down. He gave a small smile when she produced the object of irritation: the Spanish flintlock he kept at his belt. She resumed throwing her arms round him, the elegant weapon still in one hand, her head leaned softly on his shoulder. They fell somewhat harmoniously into place, his hands resting on her legs as she clung to him in an exhausted, pathetic mess. With a smile and stride that exuded perfect confidence, he closed the space between them and the door of his cabin; he set her back on her own feet, fluidly opening and closing the door behind them. The only time they exchanged thoughts was through fleeting glances at one another; she watched with timid admiration as he casually shrugged off his various layers of garb and weaponry. He tried not to look too terribly smug with himself, for he was quite aware of the effect it had upon her, but slyly turned about to retrieve his pistol from her grasp. She didn't know if she should have been relieved or disappointed when he conveniently turned his back to her as she pulled off her own coat and boots. _'Gentleman, indeed,' _she thought to herself. It seemed ironic though, to be lamenting the genteel qualities of someone who'd shamelessly hauled her into his personal quarters with doubtless intentions of having her stay there with him. He looked oddly common without his coat and big feathery hat, and yet still managed to be a fairly intimidating figure, at least to Elizabeth. Intimidating but ever so welcome; he was a refuge, from the cold, her guilty conscience, from her own dark thoughts, and this time, he seemed to have no qualms about Ecclesiastes 4:11. Nor did she have any about allowing herself to be nestled close to him beneath a superfluous but delightful amount of furs and coverings on that cold, quiet night, the small part of her that still insisted that there was something terribly awry having been hushed. She'd chosen instead to rest her head in the curve of his neck, allowing a contented sleep begin to spread over her in a most delicious way, thinking that perhaps nothing could have been quite so wrong and yet feel so wonderfully perfect.

"Just for tonight, Captain. Just this once," she murmured as he slyly pulled her flush against himself. He laughed softly, letting a hand become lost and entangled in her wavy locks.

"Of course." He whispered before kissing the top of her head, smiling to himself and blessing her naivety as well as the warmth she provided as she slipped into a deep sleep.

'_But I know better, if I know you.'_

**A/N: **So there you have Chapter 9. I can't say I'm happy with it, but they say you are your own worst critic. I just can't help but feel that it's a bit muddled and unorganized, and I may want to kick myself later for the slumber party, however it _was _delightfully fluffy. I'm reaching a point now where I have to decide where I'm going with this thing, and I could really use any ideas and feedback that you'd like to throw at me. Oh yeah, and to all of you putting this on your favorites and alerts, I _see _you! Go ahead and review, even just to tell me it stinks/was mediocre. I'm not trying to be a review slut, but this thing has a lot of hits and I'm curious to know what you think; I accept anonymous reviews as well. (Hint, hint). Also check out the link to my forums, for the times I've gone long without an update, I post the reason (usually a very good one) why there's a delay. In this case I've been in job training, yay! I can't very well navigate the story though, if I don't know what you all as readers are looking for in it. So please, be sweet little 'shippers and leave me some lurve!


	10. Jack Sparrow: Monkey Expert

_**Chapter 10**_

Just a warning, I've peppered some parts of this with bits inspired by the supposed leaked script for AWE, which may or may not be spoilerish. I'll probably be doing so in later chapters as well.

**_Disclaimer: _**Actually you don't need all these disclaimers. 'Bout six will do. _Oooohhh dear . . . _ah yes, and I realized that on the last chapter's disclaimer, I stated that Will and Barbossa belonged to me. That was supposed to be edited out once I discovered that the site does not support the ability to do strikeout through text. I do not, in fact, claim ownership of either of these _lovely _men, they belong to the people at Disney, as does anything else you may recognize. Anywho, here is the latest chapter. Enjoy.

"_That's why there's no sense to be killin' you - yet." _The words had been spoken with delightful malice; she'd never known anyone to pour so much enthusiasm into their wickedness, yet he seemed well-practiced and comfortable doing so. They reverberated through her mind as she lay curled in a tight ball under his desk on the _Black Pearl_, clenching sweaty palms together in the frigid ocean air. Try as she might, she could not quell herself from shaking with the dreadful anticipation that at any given moment, he would burst through the cabin doors with less than honorable intentions. Despite the anxiety and fear that clutched at her, she had managed to succumb to sleep in a cold sweat, but was ever aware of her captor in fleeting, but vivid nightmares. She would frequently wake in alarm and scold herself for not keeping a better watch, then shake her head in confusion, reminding herself that he could not feel nor enjoy; after that an involuntary shudder always followed and she remembered the awful sight of him sans flesh and blood, like something out of a nightmare. After the waking would be a few moments of horrible, reluctant contemplation of what it would be like to be taken in his clutches, should things come to the worst, but she forced herself not to dwell on such thoughts, at least not too much.

Presently, her mind lapsed back to those fearful days, though she now recalled them with a sense of adventure, as she turned over in her sleep, immediately paralyzed upon the realization that she was not alone. She blinked groggily at first, her eyes flying open in terror when she made out the face before her. Once again she was seized by old memories of rusty knives and the business ends of Spanish pistols, and of the lecherous pirate captain with no feelings. Acting upon instinct, she gave a start and attempted to free herself from what she thought at the moment was an unwelcome embrace; half-asleep, he also acted on instinct and tightened his grip on her, not entirely sure of what was occurring at the moment.

"What the blazes has gotten into you, woman?" he inquired while dodging a flailing arm, unable to decipher the gibberish and nonsense that came from her. She leaned in aggressively; he did not move out of the way in time and ended up drawing back with a hiss. "Mind your teeth!" A recollection of the events of the past year snapped into her consciousness, as well as the events of the night before.

"Oh." She could only stare at him with sheepish pity; she had left an impressive imprint on his hand that was growing redder by the minute.

"You were only dreamin' again, Miss. Nothin' to get excited over." His voice was soft, despite the scowl that he wore as he absent-mindedly examined the handiwork she'd left on him in her panic, smiling just a bit. She leaned forward in an attempt to examine it.

"I'm sor-"

"Don't be. I'll be repayin' you for it."

"I'm not entirely sure I like the sound of that!"

"I do."

The slightly maniacal grin he now regarded her with told her that he would be invariable about keeping his word. She only had now to worry about when said repayment would take place. Somewhat hesitantly, she rolled over and stood to her feet, fearing the worst sort of trick would come from him at any given second. Smiling just a bit when nothing of the sort happened, she let her guard down a little; maybe he hadn't meant it. Maybe he would let it go seeing as she had been kind enough to warm his bed all night. Not promiscuously, but she had shared his bed, nonetheless. Her relief was short lived; she hadn't been standing for ten seconds when she was snatched from behind, finding herself abruptly turned about and facing him, her back pressed lightly against the cabin wall. He still smiled at her, shaking his head, and thoughts began to race through her mind as she searched for a way to try and persuade him out of doing whatever it was that he had concocted this time. She let her gaze wander to his lips, making her best attempt at a seductive smile. It seemed to work at first; he mirrored her actions down to the letter, until the instant she fell victim to her own devices and let her eyes fall closed in anticipation of what she thought was to come. But what she thought would happen and what actually did were two entirely different things.

Several minutes later, she stood before a mirror, wearing a look of devastation and slight fury.

"_That_ was entirely uncalled for!" she lamented, fingering the newly-made mark on the side of her neck. "What I did was an accident and may I remind you that I did attempt to apologize?" He could only laugh in that irritatingly delicious manner that was unique to him.

"Couldn't help myself. Been waiting a long time for an excuse to do that."

"I'm sure of it. You're fortunate it's still cold out and no one will question my sudden fondness for scarves."

"Fortunate am I?"

"Yes," she snapped, hastily jerking her coat on. "You're not the only one on this ship that can pull nasty tricks on people, mark my word."

He watched quietly as she struggled with her boots, retrieving one that had been sent on a voyage across the room for daring to be stubborn about slipping on correctly and silently giving thanks that she had not sent it in his direction. He offered it to her; she was currently attempting to turn her collar up and was failing miserably about making it appear inconspicuous. She snatched the boot from his hands, the way he observed her doing so once again conjured up old memories and she found herself realizing, that maybe even in those frightening days that there was a small part of her that had enjoyed being watched. Making his acquaintance had been a startling ordeal, to be sure, but he was not a disappointment; he was every bit the legend she had imagined and then some. She set the defiant footwear down for the moment, not in the mood to struggle with it just yet, and set about finding something to wrap around her neck. He furrowed his brows and rose to follow her.

She felt once again the touch that was growing ever-familiar warming her shoulder, turning to face him with a look that more than hinted at exasperation. He took her by the hands, putting a stop to her frivolous search for something to put round her neck; doubtless she remembered him mentioning not bringing anything with which to ward off the cold. Idly he traced a finger along the mark that would be sure to bruise and felt her grip on his hand tighten.

"Why hide it, Elizabeth?" His voice hinted at teasing, but she knew he was serious. She struggled with her words for a moment before answering him.

"Is it so wrong that I'm not in a terrible hurry to show off the fact that I've been _bitten_ by the ship's captain?" She spoke barely above a whisper, and he knew that she was having difficulty in coming to grips with their growing fondness for one another, but felt it was high time to stop treading eggshells about it. "You must at least have some idea the amount of ribbing I'd endure for it from Jack, and Will would - -" He put a finger to her lips.

"Master Turner has sense enough now to know when a book's been closed. And besides," he continued, pulling her close and bending down to whisper in her ear, "I'm tired of sharing you." Nevertheless, he still turned her collar up the wrong way before they left the cabin that morning, figuring that humoring her for the time being would give him a better result than growing too demanding too quickly and reminding himself that patience was indeed a virtue. Yet he also felt that he'd spent far too much of his life already in patient waiting . . .

It had been decided, much to Elizabeth's personal chagrin, that the two crews would congregate that evening to discuss the finer points of their plan thus far and generally give everyone a chance to catch their breath and enjoy the relief of having the journey to World's End over with. She had tried her very best to stay hidden for most of the day and tonight was no different; they had boarded the _Black Pearl _for the rendezvous and she knew all of it's various shadows and crevices too well, having spent more time on it than she might have cared to. Barbossa had tried with his best come-hither smile and a bottle of wine to coax her out, only to have her shake her head at him and retreat further into her dark corner. He had decided to leave well enough alone, to her relief. She stood there peeking out from the darkness, able to catch snatches of what was going on if she listened carefully. After some time of watching Will, Jack, Gibbs and Barbossa stand in a tense grouping, she deduced that they had decided to set a course for the bayou once again before making any further plans. She turned the idea over and over in her mind, unsure what exactly to make of it; it seemed as if Tia had the ability to see right through a person and it was a talent that frightened as well as fascinated her. Nothing made her more uncomfortable than the feeling that someone knew when she was putting on an act; it made her feel terribly vulnerable and exposed. She heard someone approaching just now, and inwardly groaned at the sight of Captain Sparrow sauntering towards her as only he could. He stood just on the edge of the cast shadow that hid her, acting as if he didn't know very well that she was present, looking like something from a storybook with large snowflakes blowing about and settling into the wrinkles and folds of his clothing, his eyes squinted against the wind. After a moment or two, he rolled his eyes, sighing impatiently as he turned to leave. A small gasp escaped her against her will and she stepped forward.

"Jack, wait." he turned about to face her, looking only half-interested in what she might have to say, but those who knew him best knew better.

"Yes?" he asked, looking down his nose and deliberately not making eye contact with her. She came to face him, she would at least look him in the eye, whether or not he chose to reciprocate would be his decision entirely. She _would _say this, no matter how her voice faltered or tears threatened to come. Outlaw or not, she had not yet been able to live for very long with a guilty conscience.

"Jack, I _am _sorry. I'm sorry."

He sighed, his lips slipping into a knowing smile. "I know, love," he answered, finally turning to face her. "But don't say it. Just because something is true doesn't necessarily mean that it bears saying." He shook his head. "Don't ever say it."

She felt slightly silly, but also as if a great weight had been taken from her shoulders, even if he had told her not to admit such things.

"You knew, all this time?"

He gave a small laugh. "If there's one thing I've learned about you, Elizabeth Swann, is that you're a terrible liar. The truth is usually written all over you face. Seems to be the one bad habit of mine that you just can't manage to master, not that it's anything to be ashamed of; you've been a fine apprentice otherwise."

She laughed, shaking her head. Perhaps a guilty conscience was something she would never learn to live with. "Thank you, Jack," she said quietly as she smiled up at him. He took on a look of caution.

"Makin' me a bit nervous now, dearie, we both know what happened last time you said that to me."

The smile faded from her face. "Jack, don't make fun, it's not amusing."

"I 'ave to. So should you. Otherwise you'll never get over it. I've told you before, I admire someone who's willing to do whatever is necessary. You did it, and here I still am, just as fetching as ever, aye?"

She sighed, letting her head fall back so she could look at the unfamiliar constellations above, thoroughly exhausted from the argument and deducing that bantering with pirate captains should be considered a national sport. _'One that threatens your sanity . . .'_ She didn't notice the way he had gone wide-eyed as she did so.

"Where did we get this?" he asked with a grin, pulling her collar aside to reveal the large bruise that she had been so bent on keeping concealed. She could only gape while simultaneously turning interesting shades of red. Her eyes flitted in all directions while she tried to grasp for a halfway believable claim. Forgetting everything that she had just been told, she chose to put on an air of haughtiness when she spotted Barbossa's monkey sitting near them, chattering nonsensically while he eavesdropped.

"Quite simple, Jack," she said, pointing at his namesake. "That malevolent little beast bit me, isn't it obvious?" The monkey looked as if he'd been scandalized and faced Jack questioningly. Captain Sparrow's eyes darted mischievously from Elizabeth, to the monkey, and back to her.

"The monkey bit you."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, he did. Not that I deserved it, but there you go nonetheless."

Jack smiled smugly to himself. "I still go by what I said earlier; you're a terrible liar, and so is Will. I told him so yesterday. But if you say so, then fine. The monkey it is. Though that lovely little bit of artwork is a bit large for the little bugger, don't you think?"

"Not as large as his arrogance!" she scoffed.

"Mmm, so I see." He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze still fixed upon Jack the monkey and smiling at the seamless shift in conversation. "You do know that the monkey is a terrible liar as well."

"Is he, now?"

"Yup." Jack nodded, not even blinking at the change in subjects that neither of them had voiced. "Always was, like yourself, so he gave it up. Found that he was better suited for loopholes and deceit, but never once since knowing him will you be able recall a time when that monkey has lied to you, I guarantee it."

"You're right, I can't." A smile began to play it's way onto her face as she realized exactly where the conversation was headed.

"You know, you don't have to let the monkey push you around, love."

"I'm listening."

"One way to best him is to beat him at his own game; something tells me you'd be very good at it, if you were feeling so inclined." She visibly brightened at this last statement, but only for a moment; he wasn't quite done being cheeky just yet. "That is unless, you like being pushed around and having great whopping monkey bites tattooed all over yerself."

"Jack! What exactly are you insinuating?"

"Not tryin' to insinuate anything," he shrugged, adding "Its only a _monkey_," before walking away. She crossed her arms over her chest, welcoming her latest thought with a cunning smile.

Whether it was to make herself feel a bit better about the plot that had just wriggled its way into her mind, or simply because she wanted to, she spent much of the evening not more than an arm's length away from Barbossa, even leaning into him every now and then or looping her arm through his. It did not go unnoticed by Will, and though he was unsurprised, he still found it rather unnerving and lingering on the border of personal insult. He made it a point to try and divert his gaze elsewhere rather than to let it linger upon the two of them. The dark and somewhat jealous look that crossed his face when his glance did fall upon them caused Elizabeth to feel a small pang of guilt; while her captain felt a snide sort of personal satisfaction.

Despite the animosity that may have been present, neither of them could deny the homeyness felt from being aboard the _Black Pearl _once more and would both be sorry to leave it when it was time to retire for the evening and return to the _Orpheus_. Oddly enough, there had not yet been any discussion about who was to captain the infamous _Pearl _once all was said and done, a fact that many were glad for. No one was particularly looking forward to the unpleasant and potentially ugly debate that was almost certain to eventually take place. It was for this reason that Elizabeth was not hesitant when the time came to head back to their ship. She was startled at her own thought; trying to remember when she had started thinking of it as 'their'ship. She shook her head, dismissing it as petty silliness on her part, ignoring the part of her that knew better, as usual. She would dwell on that thought later when there was less chance of her wearing it on her face. She chose now to let her mind go back to the besting of monkeys. Presently, she was seated next to Barbossa; he grinned widely when she snuggled closer to him in plain sight of everyone else, and he had the fleeting thought of sneaking her onto his lap but changed his mind at the last minute. No need to be superfluously showy about the matter, especially seeing how she was already so ridiculously close in spite of the anxiety she had displayed that morning. Suddenly he felt a finger tracing along his neck and glanced down with a lopsided smile to see her staring at him rather lasciviously. He laid a hand lightly on her arm, gently stroking it and whispering to her.

"We have an audience, Miss Swann."

"Hmm, I see that," she said lazily. She straightened herself into a more proper sitting position and slung an arm carelessly around his neck, pulling his face tauntingly close to hers. "Captain, I know what I said last night . . . but I don't suppose you'd mind terribly much if I were to warm your bed again tonight?" His lopsided grin widened and he hugged her a bit tighter as well as pressing a firm kiss to her cheek; a gesture that nearly caused her resolve to crumble, though she wasn't sure exactly why.

"As I said, I know you better."

"_Do _you?" She teased, albeit in all seriousness.

He sighed with mock exasperation, staring unblinking into her eyes in a way that made her feel instantly drained of all self-reliance. "Yes, I'm quite confident that I do." His tone dripped with friendly sarcasm. "Why don't you go on ahead, I'll be along just as shortly as I can manage." He had tried to let the words leave him as casually as possible, hiding the suspicion that was nagging away at him. Her smarmy behavior led him to believe that something was most definitely afoot, but found that he was willing to let it happen out of sheer curiosity. She never ceased to entertain him with her random and sometimes dangerous outbursts of revenge, though a small part of him regretted that he hadn't hidden all of the table knives before allowing her inside his cabin. In truth, a warmed bed was not at all the reason he had sent her away before him, even though he might have enjoyed that aspect of it. He had yearned for some time to just be left alone on the _Pearl_ once more, with only his thoughts for company, to perhaps recall a time when he had sailed for the love of it, with no ulterior motives of betrayal or mutiny or destruction. Before he'd decided that he was more deserving of the title than his captain and in turn, sentenced himself to that unforgettable and hellish decade. He started thinking for half a minute that maybe greed had not served him so very well after all, but resigned himself to go back to the _Orpheus_ before he actually began to feel _remorse_, heaven forbid, over the ordeal. It was all, as he had pounded into everyone else's heads, bygones, and would remain that way.

'_Because I'm not sorry. Never will be.'_

Nevertheless, the captain and crew of the _Black Pearl _were more than a bit bewildered when he stomped past them and onto the gangplank, turning about to bark out "Goodnight, Jack!" in a hasty and rather ill-tempered manner before boarding his ship. Jack stood for a while, exchanging glances with the crew before finally shrugging.

"He missed me."

-

Barbossa's suspicions of Elizabeth had gone from his mind for a very short while, but came rushing back to him as he approached his cabin door. He gave a tired sigh and rolled his eyes, completely unsurprised, but still aggravated to find it locked. _'Wonderful,' _he thought. He considered beating his fist against the door but didn't want to alert his entire crew to the fact that he had been swindled out of his own private quarters, choosing instead to impatiently jangle the knob. His attempt was rewarded with a small square of paper promptly slipped beneath the door.

Admiration, amusement, and restrained fury coursed through him as he read it.

"_Dearest Captain,_

_If you are requesting admittance, I am afraid that I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request. I agreed that I would warm your bed; it was you who failed to specify whether or not you would be in it. I hope you sleep well; I shall see you in the morning."_

_Your shameless brat, _

_Elizabeth Swann_

He sighed once more, pocketing the note for whatever reason, thoroughly exhausted by this point. At least she had left her own door unlocked. He strode into the smaller cabin and closed the door behind him, only to turn around and find the bed completely stripped. It was going to be a cold night.

**A/N:** Ah, yes. I couldn't resist the opportunity to reference those lines. Firstly I must give thanks to **just me** for the very kind and encouraging review. Also, some of you have noted that I'm a bit wordy at times; I looked back and noticed that I did, in fact have a bit of purple prose in that last chapter. Thank you for pointing that out and steering me _away_ from that! I do NOT want this to end up looking like the works of a young fantasy author who shall remain unnamed. -wink- Special thanks also goes to **LadyBootstrap** and others who have contributed their ideas to this story. I'd get stuck on this thing if it weren't for you guys.

Leave me some love!


	11. Settlements

_**Chapter 11**_

**Disclaimer: **Disney's characters, makes Disney captain. But it be _my _plot! That makes me . . . Plot Woman!

(Plot Woman apologizes in advance if she's botched up Jack or Tia in this chappie. Or both of them, for that matter. She really did make an effort to get them in character.)

Elizabeth had not known what to expect the following morning, but did not regret her actions in the least. There was a tense moment between them when she emerged from the cabin, almost walking smack into him, although she had told herself that he was more than likely just outside waiting for her. There were no words spoken, however it was more than clear to her, despite the stern calmness of his expression, that she had earned his respect. When he finally broke the silence, it was to complacently inform her that he would he having his bed back that night and it was entirely up to her if she were to join him, however he did expect her to put everything back the way she found it before her adventure in pilfering. She did, to some extent, but was not above adding a few extra furs to her own bed coverings; surely he had noticed, but never said anything about it. Whether she had taken them for the warmth or for the fact that they simply reminded her of his presence was a question she not would confront herself with until later. She was also ever nagged by the feeling that, although respect may have been earned, it was certainly no guarantee that he would not have some counter attack working itself out in his mind.

The remainder of the journey back to the bayou was fairly uneventful; life aboard the _Orpheus _held routine that everyone seemed more than willing to settle into for the time being. Elizabeth and Barbossa, for the first time, were able to simply enjoy one another's company without tension lying between them or worries of what lay ahead. She did not make a habit of curling up beside him each night, save for when it they had endured particularly rough weather or she was once again plagued by the past haunting her sleep, both of which were becoming more rare events as of late. They mostly had taken to enjoying conversation over dinner in his cabin, which was startlingly reminiscent to their first meeting and yet so very different. It was nearly unnerving for her when she realized just how well they got along when there was a lack of mistrust and animosity between them. And he certainly would never complain; she made him feel as if years were lifted from him and life added that had nothing to do with being freed of heathen curses. Perhaps he had grown so used to only the plain and sometimes less than intelligent company of his crews and only the occasional warmth of woman's body that a few coins could buy; it was refreshing to have a spirit of youth and enthusiasm about him for so long a time and at such proximity, and one so very easy on the eyes to boot. Not that there weren't fleeting times in which they were at odds with one another and he would have very much liked to dump her overboard for a few minutes or maybe just dangle her over the railing by her feet, but he was always averted from doing so by that ever present softness that had the irritating habit of rearing its head at him as of late, and also by the thought that once she was properly fished back out and dried off, she was capable of carrying out an equally nasty and unkind vengeance of some sort. She had confessed to him late one evening that the incident involving the cannonball and his foot all those weeks ago had not been an accident by any means, and although forgiven, he would never forget her actions with the table knife aboard the _Pearl_.

Further meetings with the captain and crew of said ship were few and far between; there was certainly no great love between Jack and Barbossa and it went without saying that the less they were in each other's presence, the better it would be for everyone. Barbossa was not abashed in the least about casting long, desirous glances at the vessel he had commanded for nearly a decade, and Jack did not pretend to ignore them. It was during such tense moments that Elizabeth and Will wished there was some way they could pull their respective captains out of feeding the old hatred and bad blood that existed between them, but both knew it would have been easier to take the salt from the ocean. Thankfully such times were also few and far between.

Jack could not help but be slightly bewildered whenever he caught a glimpse of the captain of _Orpheus _making seemingly flirtatious gestures with the governor's daughter. On one hand, he thought, it should not surprise him in the least; during their time spent marooned on the rumrunner's cache together, he had learned enough about young Miss Swann to know that she had always had an odd affinity for pirates. Unhealthy and absurd, it would be called by those of the world who chose to be referred to as 'civilized,' though Jack of all people knew that the so-called doers of justice could be just as barbaric as any man who called himself pirate. Choosing to put the memories of the various arrests and attempts at executing him aside, he let his thoughts go back to the woman who had betrayed him with a kiss and a lie. While Captain Sparrow would never be one to deny himself the pleasure of the carnal variety, he knew that their encounter was something he should never have allowed himself to partake in. The comradeship she now shared with Barbossa, while perhaps not so uncharacteristic as he first thought, still disturbed him somewhat, but he was not nearly as bothered by that circumstance as he was by the one that was aboard his _Pearl _at the time. It made him uneasy, to say the least, the way Will was forever insistent on taking the wheel, and the longing, possessive, almost lustful look that came over his face when he was allowed to do so. Being that Will's sudden affinity for the ship was rather useful to him at the time, Jack chose not to make an issue over it, but still kept a watchful eye on him. He had lost the _Pearl _enough times already and was determined not to let another incident take place. There was a part of Jack, however, that had to laugh just a bit at the irony of the situation. He had never really considered that when caught between Will Turner and Hector Barbossa, that the former would cause him to feel more threatened regarding his ship than the latter. Although Will and Elizabeth had certainly chosen quite different paths than he would have ever fathomed upon first meeting them, they had done him proud.

Jack however, was not the only person trying to suppress a smirk when they reached their destination and young William sat in of one of the longboats wearing a most amusing and previously uncharacteristic grin. Had Barbossa commented, he would have said that Will shared a semblance with that of a young rooster entering a new coop for the first time; he certainly had the lusty approach about him, and it only grew more amusing and somewhat ridiculous as they continually floated down the murky stream that took them to Tia's abode.

Jack could suppress his amusement no longer and felt it was only fair to give the boy some warning; he'd been amongst enough cocky young sailors in his time, and it was perhaps not so long ago that he had been one himself.

"Don't let that '_knowing_' comment go to your head, William." Will cocked an eyebrow at him, forcing Jack to push back the fleeting but terribly irresistible urge to slap the haughty expression off his young companion's face.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean by that, Jack," was his snide reply.

'_Let it go, Jack . . . '_ he told himself. There were some things still, apparently, that Will would simply have to learn on his own.

The respective captains both stood at the front of their longboats, each seeming oblivious to the other's ardent dislike and mistrust. Elizabeth, however, currently held the old rivalry in little regard, her thoughts being fixed on the uncertainty that loomed in her stomach with every stroke closer they came to the hut in the bayou. The voyage had more than taken its toll on her, and though her pride resisted such ideas, she would have liked nothing better at the moment than to be encircled by a set of lithe and sinewy arms, her face pressed against a strong chest as she drank in the essence that was Barbossa. He was prone to being a bit rough most of the time, at least when in sight of subordinates, but there were those fleeting moments in which his steeliness gave way to the person he might have become had he chosen a different path for himself in life. One on which he likely never would have crossed paths with her, she thought. She always relished such moments, as they were somewhat rare occurrences and she had yet to figure a way of coaxing them from him; he was very much seasoned with keeping the emotional side of himself locked away, at least when she was not asleep. For now, she would simply have to be contented with letting her foot rest near where he stood, now and again letting it brush ever so slightly against his own. It may or may not have been the reason for the otherwise inexplicable twitch that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

The shack came into view soon after, much to the relief of most of the crew, although far too soon for Elizabeth, who was growing irritated with herself for being so uneasy about the matter. She couldn't help but feel slightly foolish when they finally reached the seemingly commonplace abode and many of her surrounding crew mates seemed more than happy to exchange the unpredictable rolling of water for someplace solid to step foot on, if only for a little while. She noted that Barbossa in particular seemed rather pleased with the situation and tried to ignore the stab of disapproval that stirred within her at the thought. She furrowed her brow, wondering why the stab turned to a quiet churning of jealousy within her at the smile with which the priestess met him. Jack found it horribly amusing to observe Elizabeth's annoyance at seeing Tia violate Barbossa's personal space both with eyes and touch. It was entirely _too _amusing, in fact, than to simply inform her that Tia Dalma greeted everyone in such a manner, be they man or woman; he had learned much from Tia about flirtatiousness that would prove valuable to his dealings in life.

However her smile for Barbossa today was neither playful nor flirtatious. What was spoken in silent profoundness between them when he stepped into her home that evening would forever remain unknown to anyone besides themselves, although if anyone guessed, they might have read _'Our debt is settled.' _Her gaze pulled away from him and settled upon Jack, and their silent converse would be equally mysterious.

"Come," she beckoned, taking him by the hands in a way that was neither scolding or romantic, and they disappeared into the next room, if it could be called that, seeing as the wall consisted of little more than a curtain. The rest of them shuffled about uneasily, save for Barbossa, who wasted no time in making himself at home; he settled into a rickety chair, sifting absent-mindedly through a pile of trinkets that lay nearby. As had been her shipboard habit, Elizabeth found a dark corner and retreated there, leaning against the wall with her arms folded across her chest as she watched the captain musing over the various shiny bits that he rolled in his hands. How long she stood like this was difficult to say, but it seemed only a few short moments passed before Tia reappeared with Jack, who looked as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He shot a complacent smile in Barbossa's direction, causing the older man to furrow his brow, the beginnings of a scowl forming on his face. Whether they were relieved to take a short rest from the voyage or not, it was safe to say that everyone's nerves were on end; a spat might have erupted had Tia not then called upon the elder captain to come with her. Jack allowed himself a cheeky smile when this time Elizabeth, and Will as well, seemed to be bristling with irritation. He enjoyed letting them silently fume and fret for a few minutes before breaking the tense silence with a deep, throaty laugh.

"You've no idea what's going on in there, do you?"

"Well enough," they had replied in near unison, eliciting more amusement from Captain Sparrow.

"Clearly you don't know Tia Dalma." The grin never left his face, though it struck his younger companions that this was likely one of the times in which he was being perfectly honest. Jack and Elizabeth however, were a bit puzzled as to why Will had gotten worked up over the matter in the first place. Jack could still only shake his head at the stubborn naivety of the Turner family, though now more than ever he began to feel pangs of guilt and ingratitude stinging within him. He asked himself if he might have done the same had their places been exchanged, and was unable to produce an honest answer. He allowed his upper lip to curl up in a somewhat disgusted manner; it sank in all too heavily now as he recalled how he had tried to evade Bill when he delivered that fateful and deadly warning to him on that quiet evening, and had attempted just as earnestly to evade Will over the idea of retrieving the one man who had shown a shred of loyalty in standing up for him, never mind it had been too little, too late. Then there was that awful feeling rearing up again, as Gibbs called it, that honest streak. He inwardly groaned to himself, thinking that the streak was making a habit of showing up far too often as of late. With a great sigh, he turned to face the man with the ever-brewing storm of emotions pent within him. The time for being hesitant and reluctant had drawn to a close.

"Will," he began, but was cut off by Tia beckoning once again, wearing a calm smile.

"Jack Sparrow, you and Turna come wit' me please." Will cast a questioning look at the pirate, who only shrugged in reply. They followed silently after her, into a room with a low table covered in burlap. Barbossa was still seated on the floor, looking rather pale and worn, reluctant compliance evident in his features. Will and Jack sat on either side of him, and Tia opposite, still with her quiet smile, and facing the younger of the three.

"And what brings you back here three time, William Turna?"

"My father."

"No doubt no ordinary ship can accomplish that which you seek to do, do it?"

"I've secured a ship with which to pursue the _Dutchman_," he replied, although he was unable to meet her gaze as he spoke. He knew all too well that the expression that would have met him would be all too critically knowing.

"You make dis agreement with Barbossa. Concerning that which does not belong to 'im."

"I did what I had to," he answered, unable now more than ever to look her in the face. The cockiness that had accompanied him in the longboat had quickly and mysteriously vanished, replaced by his more characteristic sobriety. He now very much resembled the man who sat to his left; they both looked altogether defeated, but completely without remorse, feeling that it was no fault of theirs if people disagreed with their means. It was Captain Sparrow who broke the discomforting silence.

'E's an awful habit of claiming that which isn't his," gesturing towards Barbossa. "Ships among other things." His statement was met with aggravated glares from both men, who looked ready to counter the statement and more than likely disagree on the ownership of the _Black Pearl_. Tia would hear no such arguments, quickly snapping a hand up in the air to curb their dissensions.

"Surely you would not take something a man love so dearly dat he sell his own soul for it. Some t'ings be cruel beyond the capacity even of dose whom hell does not wish to keep, and dey know it." The last words had been spoken with a shrewd glance at one Hector Barbossa. The gaze had been met with suppressed defiance. The entire matter had just been settled, without further words being exchanged.

Elizabeth, in the meanwhile, had resigned to sitting in the chair formerly occupied by Barbossa while her three madmen were summoned away. Despite their lapses in sanity at times, there were no other people who made her feel quite so safe, excepting her father. She bit her lip and struggled with threatening tears as she thought of him. She did so frequently, often wondering what sort of a state he might be in and utterly despising herself for leaving him so recklessly at the mercy of Lord Beckett. God only knew what may have befallen him by this time, and should he be safe and alive, what would he think of her now? She had abandoned, rebelled, betrayed, embraced piracy with open arms and occasionally shared the sleeping quarters of one of the worst reputed criminals and legends of their time. And it was a lifestyle which she did not see herself relinquishing anytime soon. She also highly doubted that her society would be willing to reaccept her now; she did not even want to think of the accusing looks and whispers that would ensue upon her returning as she was, dressed in sailor's clothing, having willingly spent the past few months almost entirely surrounded by only those of the male persuasion. She had already dealt with such accusations in the past, always having been fond of the naval officers and preferring them to a quiet afternoon of tea with other 'proper' young ladies. Hours she would spend listening to their stories of war and life at sea, or of the best way to navigate on a windy day. Those afternoons of soaking up the information that was given her by Norrington's officers, who doted more than willingly on her ceaseless appetite for seafaring, would grow less frequent as she grew older, when it was simply deemed not appropriate for her reputation. Also frowned upon were her visits to the smithy to see Brown's young apprentice, with whom she had shared a kindred spirit since they day they had met. An acquaintance for which they could thank Barbossa, though neither of them would know it until years later. Their fates had always been intermingled, though only one of them had been painfully aware of it for that long decade while the other two passed their youth in happy naivety. Happily as circumstances would allow them; Elizabeth would have been more than happy to exchange the stuffy bonds of propriety to have the experience of the seamen she saw coming and going at the ports. No, it was certainly not a society that she wished to return to now.

This gloomy line of thoughts, however much she might have liked to dwell on it longer, was broken when Tia re-emerged from the curtained room with the three men trailing behind her; two of them looked decidedly more satisfied about the situation than the other. Whether or not he had made an agreement with him, Will had not been heartily thrilled about the idea of taking favors from Barbossa. And while he would probably never entirely trust Jack, his experiences with the latter had not been quite so unsettling as having a notched and frigid blade pressed to his throat. Although mistrust and suspicion might always lie between the two, Will also could not help but admire the man, the captain that Barbossa was. He trusted at least that he would care for what he claimed to be his own, and found it to be a comforting thought. He brought his mind away from where thoughts like that would certainly lead to, instead choosing to dwell on what lay ahead. He had secured use of the _Pearl_, the legendary speed of which he knew to be hardly rumor, and now it seemed that Jack was assisting him willingly rather than from being persuaded or forced. Everyone seemed to be of the idea that they were to now relieve Tia's shack of its sudden crowd; Jack and Will shuffled out first with Barbossa stopping to drape an arm around Elizabeth and hug her to himself, his hand resting snugly against her hip. She could not help but blush at such intimate contact in the sight of others; apparently he had meant it when he had said he was tired of sharing her. She just had not assumed it would mean graduating to more public displays of his feelings. He made to usher her from the door behind Jack and Will, his hand straying steadily closer to her backside where he no doubt had intentions of placing it.

"Capt'in." He was roused from his current distraction, which he found to be enjoyable to say the least, by the scolding tone of Tia Dalma. He met her accusing gaze with an expression of innocence that might have charmed the queen of England, however Tia was keen to such devices coming from him and Jack, only meeting him with a look of rebuke. When he responded to the priestess, Elizabeth was thankful that Jack and Will had paid no mind to what went on behind them and were already boarding their longboat. The captain approached Tia with steady deliberation; though he was at an advantage in height and weight, it was plain which of them was a more intimidating figure.

"If ye be findin' the sight of us disagreeable to your less than mortal eyes, I can inform you that Miss Swann and I were just leavin'."

Tia raised her brows. "Miss Swann is goin' wit' you den?"

"Aye," he responded, daring to grow a bit impertinent with her. Tia merely glanced at Elizabeth and questioned her.

"Capt'in says you are going wit' him, has he bother to ask if you wish to do so?"

In the moment that followed, Elizabeth gaped like a fish out of water, Barbossa silently fumed, willing his blood not to boil, and Tia merely grinned with smug satisfaction, watching the pair with keen amusement. Barbossa turned to Elizabeth and forced a smile; she pursed her lips, suppressing her own amusement, knowing that he was fit to be tied beneath the stiffly pleasant facade.

"Miss Swann," he began with as suave a tone as he could manage, extending a hand towards her. "Would you care to accompany me in boarding the _Orpheus_?"

"Of course," was the pert response he received, accompanied by her pressing her hand gracefully into his own. He shot a defiant look in the voodoo woman's direction; she remained amused, however her face was soon clouded with emotion of a different sort. Elizabeth found it all too familiar and grew inexplicably uncomfortable. The older woman's glance fell to the floor for a moment before she spoke again, quietly clearing her throat.

"If you be so kind to be waitin' for me. I must gather a few t'ings before I go."

Barbossa felt as if his belly had attempted a leap to the throat. "Ye be plannin' to haunt my ship then, eh?"

"We already been through dis. De _Pearl _is not your ship. I have unfinished business in which Jack and Turner are now involved and I be goin' with them." No more words were exchanged for some time; Tia had quietly gathered a few belongings, most of which were thought by her two companions to be rather odd items necessary for sea travel, but there was never any point in questioning an enigma that was shrouded in mystery. Barbossa allowed himself another of his haughty smiles over the fact that he was leaving with two women in his longboat, eagerly awaiting the jealous glare that would cloud Will's face. He had grown to have an odd fondness for the way he and Bootstrap's boy were always at odds in their alliance with one another, and he knew that he would be sorry to have it end. Despite all the mud in their past, Will had been well on his way to becoming worthy enough of the title 'pirate,' and Hector Barbossa could not ignore the sinking feeling in his gut that told him the young sailor would soon undergo events that would change him forever. He sighed at the thought; it was hardly any of his problem. He had his own concerns to worry about, namely one young lady whose surname grew inexplicably weary for his liking.

**A/N: **I feel I owe you all an apology for the ridiculously long wait; I'm terribly, terribly sorry but my inspiration was more than lacking this go-round. I'm indebted to you for hanging in there with me! I know there wasn't a whole lot of shippiness in this chapter, but I can **assure **you that the next installment will more than make up for it; I've already begun work on it and I must say, banter between the Captain and Elizabeth is simply far too much fun to write. This one was a bit lengthy but I had to do what I did in order to get the plot moving along a bit better; I hope you enjoyed it despite the lack of Barbossabeth. And speaking of which, I know this seemed like it was going in the direction of "My version of AWE" type stories, but I'd say that it's taken on the personality of a very character-driven plot, don't you think? I see it as more of Hector and Elizabeth's story than the large one that will be covered in the actual film, and I've decided to keep it on a more intimate level with those two characters. Also, I'd like to get this story wrapped up and finished (I know, I'm really going to hate letting it end, too) before the release of said film. Otherwise, once I've seen it, I'll forever have "It didn't happen like that!" in the back of my mind and won't do my fiction justice the way I could with the small knowledge I have of AWE now. But I've reached a point where I definitely know where I'm going with this thing, and I'd like to do a series of ficlets and vignettes with these two, they're entirely too much fun to write for me to stop just with this. Oh and P.S., let me know what you think of how I've written Tia. Between having to write her and Jack as well, I've been pulling my hair out as they're both such unique characters.


	12. Acquiescence

_**Chapter 12**_

**Disclaimer: **If you've read this far and still think that these characters belong to me, yer off the edge of the map, mates. Here there be copyrights!

**Warning: **Slight sappiness here, teehee!

Thanks must go to **whoreoftortuga **for being lovely enough to beta this chapter for me.

-

It was not in Barbossa's character to fret or worry himself excessively over decisions to be made.

And yet the third hour was coming up on him since he had gone to his cabin to ponder over what should be done regarding all that had happened in the past month or so, and how it had turned out so very differently from what he had anticipated. His original intentions had been to retrieve Sparrow from his untimely demise; World's End was not a place that he would have wished even upon his worst adversary. He had always intended on retaking the _Black Pearl _for himself; it had been his primary reason for agreeing to lead their fool's quest. It had also been his plan to secure ownership of the _Pearl _with as little resistance as possible; as much as he took ecstasy in having regained blessed mortality, mortality meant that no more was resistance by his foes so futile.

Upon the delightful discovery that his former captive would be joining them on the expedition, he had immediately begun to form a plan on how to lure her into his quarters to engage in diversions of a more pleasurable sort, and in turn, give himself the satisfaction of once again figuratively slapping one of the Turners in the face. He still had not forgiven Bootstrap for his actions so long ago, and memory of the past was all too clear as he fingered one of the cursed trinkets, cold and unforgiving in his hand. The monkey had sprung onto his shoulder at the nearest opportunity and proudly presented it to him, just as he had done for the past decade. Barbossa had been reluctant and loathe to even touch it for weeks, fearing that the fate which had so tormented him would somehow return, this time unforgiving and undoable. His undying defiance had eventually won over though, and as of late, he had taken to toying with it during his solitary hours. It led his thoughts now back to a time when he had, by trickery and deceit, though never by outright falsehood, managed to kidnap the Governor's daughter of Port Royal as his personal guest aboard the legendary _Pearl_.

He remembered the way she had so boldly presented her request to him, and yet he could sense the underlying fear that caused her confidence to waver ever so slightly. How, even after the realization had hit her that she had effectively been taken captive, the reaction was one of someone who had been scandalized and offended; there was not a tear shed while she had been under his care. She had been cheeky and impertinent and only minimally did what he requested of her, growing bold enough to the point of burying his own silverware in his chest. Admirable, but thoughtless, and it had made him smile. She would be capable of much with the proper instruction, and he'd allowed his smile to grow lascivious at the thought thathe could teach her _many_ things, his 'pirate bride'. Likely reluctant at first, but he felt that in time she would come to admire him.

There was something quite admirable about the saucy young woman, and soon his plans of simply wooing her into carnal pleasures had reverted back to his original ideas of keeping her for himself. It was on such musings that his mind dwelt now. He still retained his intentions and intended to carry them out to the fullest, but was sorely reluctant to go about admitting them to anyone, even that one whom he wished to keep. When they had set out all those weeks ago, he would have leapt at the chance to gloat over winning the favor of Will's beloved, but the boy had taken on such an entirely different persona since then. It would seem that he was little interested in Elizabeth's romantic choices.

Barbossa allowed himself a wistful sigh, thinking of how much he had longed for companionship, and for so long a time. Piracy had its benefits no doubt, and yet he couldn't help but think he might enjoy it better had he someone to share it with. Someone of his own intellect who could appreciate more than just the aged wine and shiny coins, and who would also be willing to enjoy what he could offer between the sheets as well. At the last thought, he had to chortle just a bit at his own lasciviousness, but quickly checked himself so as not to let the mind wander. Deducing however, that nothing further could be done while the moon rode high and she had likely given in to sleep hours ago, he resigned to doing the same.

She had not yet been awake for two hours the following morning when she was inexplicably summoned to the Captain's quarters, and there found him sitting at his desk, face devoid of its usual flirtatious smirk, which caused her to be a little uneasy. She sat across from him as he had gestured, and there sat in silence for a moment or two. Unable to bear it any longer, she felt the need to speak.

"Is something wrong, Captain?"

He raised his eyebrows as if roused from deep thought.

"Oh no, nothin' be wrong, Miss Swann. Merely have a few questions for ye, is all."

"Oh - um, alright."

She thought his unusual civility and lack of salacity to be more than unnerving at this point and found herself unable to read in the least as to what he could possibly be up to this time. He very much enjoyed keeping her in such suspense, though he was able to keep it from showing. He kept his hands folded neatly upon the desk and close to himself; there was no usual stretching out to take hers into their grasp as he had been wont to do in the past few days, and it seemed to her that his face bore a look of genuine concern. She could not have known that the Captain was at that very moment inwardly acknowledging the sincerity of this emotion.

"Elizabeth, I'm wonderin' why it is yer still aboard this ship. We did what we set out to do weeks ago, and it's not as if I were holdin' you prisoner this time." She opened her mouth as if to speak, but it seemed as if she had been struck dumb. The expressionless sea captain still waited for a reply that she knew she was utterly unable to deliver without yet again putting a great deal of her own pride to rest. It brought to mind another such confrontation from long ago that she had been equally dumbstruck over.

"_You said you gave Barbossa my name as yours. Why?"_

"_I don't know."_

She knew all too well that the dishonest answer she had given Will would hardly suffice in the presence of Barbossa; he had reminded her at the beginning of their voyage about the price paid for her lack of truthfulness with him in the past. Her gaze dropped to the desk as she gave a defeated little sigh before sitting back in her chair, arms crossed and unable to look him in the face, wondering why he had to insist on making her feel as foolish as possible so very often.Though she could not see him, she felt certain that he had an enormously haughty grin on his face, likely feeling quite the victor at causing her lack of speech. Had she been able to look at him, she would have discovered something quite different. He was lost in contemplation, more than satisfied with the answer he had received without words. Of course this didn't mean that he was about to give up his game quite so easily as that; watching her fret was far too entertaining. Besides, it looked as if she were just about to start speaking again and he was curious to see what she would finally produce.

"Captain, of all people I should think you would know why I am still aboard."

"Would I?" was the calm rejoinder. "Pride goes before destruction, Miss." He leaned across the desk, just a bit closer before whispering "And a haughty spirit before a fall." She gave him a small lopsided grin.

"You know when we first met, the thought of _you _quoting Scripture at _me _would have been the farthest thing from my mind, Hector Barbossa." He stared at her with steely incredulity; she found the intense gaze a great deal easier to meet than the coolness he'd displayed before and allowed a quiet triumph to spread over her features.

"And how in the Devil's blazes did you come by that information?" he hissed, eyes narrowing.

She shrugged, rising from her chair, and began to nonchalantly stride about the room. "I'd come in one day looking for you, but you had just gone below deck. I looked around." He walked round from the desk, never taking his eyes from her as she continued. "I must say, I was honestly surprised to find an enormous leather-bound Tyndale in your night stand and even more surprised to see it was actually worn from what appeared to be repeated use. Of course I thought you'd likely robbed some poor clergyman of it until I opened it and found it to be dedicated to one Hector Theron Barbossa, born on the fifth day of December in the year of - "

"_That _be enough!" he barked, wishing to stop her ludicrousness more out of fear that he would begin to show amusement than out of the fact that he was actually annoyed with her actions. Very few people, let alone women, had ever dared behave towards him with such impertinence. Her behavior, however, seemed only to be fueled by his mounting impatience.

"And I learned that you are, in fact, two years older than my father. That is, if the Bible in question does indeed belong to you, which judging by your reactions just now, I would say it most certainly does." As the last word left her mouth, she was not at all surprised to find her arm suddenly taken in a less than comfortable grip and that she was hauled roughly back to the desk where they'd been before and thrown unceremoniously into her seat again.

"Yer a meddling, impertinent little brat, ye know that?"

"So you've told me. Several times."

He gave her a sarcastic nod. "Aye, but you'll still be answerin' my questions." He sank back into his chair, beginning to look a bit tired and frustrated. It made her feel slightly guilty, and she forced herself to behave a bit better towards him. Despite how fun it might have been to get him riled, she resigned herself to putting away her wit for the moment, as he leaned forward once again, the beginnings of a question already clouding his features.

"I'm sorry, Captain," she said a bit remorsefully.

"Never mind it, Miss. Here now, no, look at me." This time he did reach across the desk between them and placed his fingers beneath her chin. "_Look _at me." She swallowed, slowly forcing herself to meet his eyes, immediately noticing that his mood had changed. It was reminiscent of that first night when he'd been so terribly insistent on calling a truce with her and she found it even more difficult now to resist the pleading blue eyes and surprisingly gentlemanlike demeanor. He caught on to her weakening resolve to be as difficult as possible and thus regained his own composure.

"Now I'll ask ye this once, only once, and God help you if you don't tell me the truth. Would yer choices these past few weeks have been any different should Turner not have backed out on ye?"

She hesitated a few moments before flushing just a bit and shaking her head shamefacedly. He smiled at her, allowing himself a genuine laugh at her abashment; it was something he found to be terribly endearing. "That's a good girl," he smiled, patting her on the cheek and leaning back to regard her thoughtfully for a moment, willing that she might let go of that shred of remorse which insisted on clinging to her conscience, despite how adorable it might have looked on her.

"So long as ye ended up with what ye wanted, 'tis admirable." He rose to his feet once again, walking round to stand behind her. Goose bumps stretched delightfully over her at the feeling of his hands gently pulling the hair away from her face, and the way his nails ever so slightly skimmed across her neck as he did so. Something that would have thoroughly disturbed her a year before now rendered her breathless and weakened. Reluctantly she turned to glance up at him, only to find a quietly salacious grin staring back at her while he continued to run his fingers softly along her neck. While relieved that his bout of confrontation seemed to be over with, she wasn't sure if the return of his usual sensuality was anymore welcome, though it seemed as if he were perfectly content at the moment with his current actions. Coming to the conclusion that this was likely one of those times in which he had put aside his commanding personality to simply enjoy being human, she stood to her feet, slipping her hands inside his coat and taking him in a tight embrace. She closed her eyes, allowing contentment to take over her, the sort that came from having her face nestled onto his shoulder and standing still to better feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. After a while she mustered the courage to ask him what had been bothering her for several days now.

"Are you going with Jack and Will?"

"Perhaps and perhaps not," he replied, shrugging nonchalantly. "Be runnin' low on supplies so I'll not be makin' that decision at least until we make port and get stocked. And I've other business to attend to there as well. Imagine we'll be there at least a few days."

There had been a strange glint in his eyes at the mention of this 'other business' that more than ate away at her curiosity, but with the evasive mood he seemed to have adopted, she doubted he would give her a proper answer. She had resolved to simply return to resting her head against him and to her delight, he began again with tracing his fingers along her neck, stopping on the spot where he'd left a mark.

"Mmm, almost faded away on us, innit? I'll have to do somethin' about that."

She returned his wicked smile. "And how exactly do you plan on going about doing such?"

He pulled her close, their faces barely touching, and whispered, "_Wouldn't you like to know_." He strode calmly away and towards the door, laughing softly, but not before placing a quick kiss to her forehead, leaving her once again delightfully frustrated with his shenanigans. She began to wonder if one day she wasn't going to simply go insane from it all. She thought of perhaps rummaging through the cabin again as to gain more useful information against him, when she was brought to a halt by her conscience; he had looked so unusually alarmed by her earlier reveal, and whether she simply did not wish to risk getting him too terribly upset, or if the sight of such was just disheartening, she was not sure. She did know, though, that further mischief against him was not something she would pursue for the time being.

-

They were well out of the cold of World's End by this time, and the hot sun once again beat down upon them unmercifully; Barbossa grew impatient with his young charge, who seemed more disagreeable even than usual. He tried to ignore the sweat trickling down his face along with his rising temper.

"You're comin' with me Elizabeth, and I be speakin' as yer Captain!"

In response, she clenched her jaw shut and abruptly sat on the nearest barrel, arms and legs crossed. He felt she was making herself more than worthy now of the title 'brat', but kept his temper in check despite the awful urge to turn her over his knee and tan her. He wasn't even sure why she was so adamantly set against boarding the _Pearl _with him in the first place; it wasn't as if anything was at stake now, or if they were even hiding something anymore. Surely she did not think that Will had simply not noticed the ridiculous way she'd been fawning over him on that night? As if it mattered in the first place; regardless, he would have no parts of a woman that was abashed at the idea of being seen with him.

"_You_, Captain, may go over there and attend to whatever business it is that you sailors must attend to so dreadfully often, and I'll be waiting right here for your return." His face took on an expression of quiet fury as he silently, calmly strode towards her with firm resolve.

"You'll be comin' over there with me whether ye like it or not! Now, you can go on yer own two legs, dignified like, or I can throw ye over me shoulder and carry ye. How we get there be entirely up to you, but I'll not give ya long to think about it."

Finding herself suddenly flustered, she felt she would rather retain some dignity at the moment, if he was going to be so insistent on throwing his authority about. She reluctantly left her seat, rolling her eyes as she went. He smiled satisfactorily, casually slinging an arm around her as they made their way towards the gangplank, which would clearly not accommodate them walking abreast across it.

He looked over at her, smirking; it didn't take half a second before she read his thoughts.

"Ugh! Absolutely_ not_! For the last time, I don't need you to carry me about for the whole world to see!" On one hand, she was thoroughly put out that he continued with his rubbish about wanting to pick her up and parade her about like a small child, and on the other hand, she couldn't help but wonder and feel a bit guilty at the almost hurt look on his face at what she had just said. However his recovery from her shun was speedy; she had, with an exasperated sigh, turned her back towards him in stubborn defiance, when he quietly drew his sword and swatted her squarely on the rump with the flat side. She quickly spun around, mouth agape. He merely stared at her with a most self-satisfied expression. She wasn't sure whether she should be smoldering mad or profoundly amused; perhaps either would have been appropriate. Acting upon foolish impulse, she reached for her own sword in an attempt to draw it, but he caught her before her hand had reached the grip. She struggled for a moment to escape his grasp, but the hold he kept on her was firm and unrelenting.

"Ye be makin' this ordeal a good bit more difficult than I'd planned on, Missy."

"What ordeal?" she asked in exasperation. You're only going to go see Jack. I don't see why it's so important that I join you."

Barbossa could only sigh; her naive and somewhat dense side had a way of showing up at the most inconvenient times. However his resolve had found him now. As much as he would have liked to make a grand spectacle of it, it would seem that such boasting would be out of place after all. He felt it was a shame, seeing as how much of his life had consisted of making a grand spectacle of his doings. Yet perhaps some things were better left for a more intimate crowd.

"Ye can be so very daft sometimes woman, you know that don't ya? I woulda thought by now that you'd have learned there's always a reason for what I ask ye to do, but I begin to think that some things will never get into that stubborn little head of yours. Come 'ere." He led her to the ship's bow, if it could be called leading. Elizabeth felt perhaps that it was more like being dragged by one's wrist, but he was not overtly rough about it, so she saw no need for protesting. He took her by the shoulders and turned her about to face the ocean, standing behind her with his chin nearly resting on her shoulder.

"Now you look straight on ahead and tell me what ye see."

She crossed her arms, almost disinterestedly, before replying. "A great enormous puddle of water that is completely unfit for drinking and also harbors terrifying so-called "mythological" creatures that feed on humans for amusement. I do believe it's also quite capable of sinking a ship if it so desires. Altogether very unpredictable, untameable, utterly deadly, and certainly nothing to be trusted." As she spoke, her tone was neither sarcastic nor distasteful; Barbossa smiled and hugged her against himself.

"All those things be true and yet I don't see ye pining for dry land." She did not answer him, and he simply went on. "Been sailin' her nigh on forty years now and never much missed it myself, though I'll admit it gets terrible lonesome at times." She paled somewhat at the comment, moving her hands over his where they rested across her waist.

"Elizabeth, look at me," he said softly. Cautiously she turned to face him; his arms never left their place wrapped about her. "All that time ago when ye were silly enough to invoke parlay, you know I had no intentions of hurtin' you." She nodded, growing ever more unsettled by his unusual gentleness; it was so terribly unlike him to wax emotional, and yet that seemed to be exactly what he was doing.

"Nor did you have intentions of taking me back to shore as you most undoubtedly led me to believe."

"I had my reasons," he smiled.

"And those being?" Her voice hinted at teasing, but was gentle nonetheless.

He had looked forward to that question, always waiting for the opportunity to give someone's words back to them. "Now Elizabeth, surely _of all people _you would know." He stopped a moment to enjoy the impish look on her face before continuing. "Wanted to keep this fiery Miss Turner, as I was made to believe she was called, fer my own. Thought to myself that she'd make a fine pirate's bride for the captain of the _Black Pearl_. It would turn out that Miss Turner wouldn't be marryin' the captain of the _Pearl_, but I be of the belief that Miss Swann would be just as fine a bride for the captain of the _Orpheus_, if she'll be havin' him, that is. But I do want to let it be known that things have perhaps changed a bit since then; I no longer be wishin' fer only a trophy bride, Miss. Now I expect ye to listen to me just now, and you listen good. Afore now I've only said this to two other people, and one of 'em was me own Mother. For all your blatant cheek and defiance and bein' brattish, I can't help but love ye despite it, and I'd be most pleased if you'd allow me yer hand."

After she had sorted out the dozens of other thoughts and emotions that sped through her in those moments, Elizabeth would recall that the Captain did not stutter and he did not blush. Although she would never have expected him to, it was just a bit odd, a bit different, as the other proposals she had received in her life had been so very awkward. Hector Barbossa was no such suitor; he had exuded perfect confidence and eloquence with both his words and actions, as if he had no doubt in his mind that she would accept. She had gotten momentarily miffed at his apparent surety of her answer, but was unable to allow it to bother her as much as it might have once done, realizing that it was this very quality about him that had been responsible for keeping her around him so long in the first place. He did not tolerate her antics as most others had done, and took nonsense from absolutely no one. She felt that perhaps it was something she had always wanted for in her lifetime, but had never met anyone, up till now, who would have absolutely none of her persuasion, who utterly refused to be manipulated in any way, shape or form. He was the stability she never knew she longed for up until the past few weeks spent with him aboard this ship, and when he so fluently asked for her hand, she knew exactly how she would answer him.

He regarded her with gentle amusement when she looked up at him with a soft and somewhat mischievous smile, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek and using the other to delicately push back a few stray locks of hair away from his ear before softly giving him her reply.

"And despite _your _tetchiness, ill, lascivious behavior and the unfortunate habit of letting that abominable creature live atop your shoulder, I must admit I've grown to love you as well. I would be _most _inclined to acquiesce to your request."

"Knew ye'd say that." He pulled her close, kissing her firmly and aggressively on the mouth, not parting until she was desperate for breath. "Now if ye don't mind," he said, fully enjoying the sight of her panting, with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, "I'd like to carry you across that gangplank."

To say that Elizabeth was rendered giddy would have been putting things lightly, and she was more than eager now to allow him to sweep her up as he had been pestering to do earlier. She was, however, given a rather rude awakening when she found herself haphazardly swung up and tossed over his shoulder instead, his hands resting conveniently on her backside with no great amount of tact.

'_Of course,' _she thought dryly to herself, _'It was me who failed to specify how . . . '_

He had bested her yet again. And she would not have had it any other way.

-

**A/N: **The name "Theron", by the way, is a Greek name meaning 'Hunter'. Complete spec on my part, but I wanted to give him a middle name, and his first name is of Greek origin as well.

I've looked forward to writing this chapter for a _long _time now, trust me. It was really fun to finally get round to it. There has been speculation amongst fans as to whether or not they would actually marry, and the conclusion I came to is inspired by none other than the lovely Mr. Geoffrey Rush himself. In the CotBP Lost Disc, he spoke of Barbossa having plans to keep Liz as his pirate bride after the curse was lifted. Thank you, Geoffrey!

I hope no one minded the fact that I let Hector get a bit sappy here; with all the Meanie!Barbossa fics I've seen, I figured it couldn't hurt to let us for once see Romantic!Barbossa. Taking a cue from the way he gave that long and elaborate speech at Isla De Muerta instead of just cutting her hand and getting it over with (I always wondered that the crew didn't get impatient with him), he gave a prolific speech that seemed as if he'd worked on it for a long time. So I thought that maybe going a little bit Mr. Darcy on us wouldn't be out of character for him, either. If you missed having growling, slightly predatory Barbossa around, check out my slashfic -evil laughter-

Anywho, we've finally reached the most fun parts of this story. I'd be happy to hear any suggestions on how the ceremony might take place. I've a rough idea of _who _is going to do it, but I'm not sure where it happen, though I lean towards at sea, of course.


	13. Union

_**Chapter 13**_

**Disclaimer: **If I were to say I owned _Pirates of the Caribbean_, I would be pursued by lawyers of Disney, like which fury hell hath no.

'Lizabeth, never though I'd say this, but the two of ya seem to be an odd but fine match, after all."

She gave a half smile and looped her arm snugly through his. "In some cases, I suppose odd and fine may turn out to mean the same thing, Gibbs. Jack for example", she added slyly.

"Aye, Jack", he nodded with a quiet laugh. "Shall we?"

Without another word, she turned with him to step onto the deck of the _Pearl_; Jack had agreed to officiate only on the terms he could do it aboard his ship, which Barbossa still felt was debatable in itself, but chose not to argue the point at the time.

It might have been a most awkward and uncomfortable situation, yet the respective captains and crew members of both the _Orpheus _and the _Black Pearl _seemed unusually at ease with the situation. Whether this was simply because they wished to avoid unpleasantries, or if they all really had made odd peace with one another, would be difficult to tell.

The ceremony took place in much the same way as it might have in any other civilized part of the world, at least if one overlooked the fact that the bride had once been held captive by her groom, and that the man who had set out to save her from said captivity, risking his life by doing so, stood among the wedding party. Then there was also the strange circumstance that they were being married by the person who had once put a bullet in one of them, but as with everything else, it no longer seemed to matter.

At least, circumstances being what they were would not stop a certain amount of bravado from being displayed by Jack Sparrow, who stood beside his former first mate, wearing a dignified expression that bordered on parody. However, he could not stop the small, meaningful smile that tugged the corners of his mouth as he saw Elizabeth being escorted by one Joshamee Gibbs, and though how things had changed so very much since that first day when he had pulled her from the sea; he also felt that he would rather not bear the thought of her ever returning to that sort of life again, even if it meant giving his approval to what he felt was an otherwise distasteful union. No, the concern that lingered most prominently in his mind now focused on the man who stood on his far right. Jack could not decide if Bootstrap's son was honestly accepting of the situation, or feigning it for sake of peace, and made up his mind to take the silly whelp aside after playing his part as clergyman.

As Elizabeth stepped ever closer to the fate she had sealed herself to, for all the light that draped the deck of the _Orpheus _that morning, the infamous Captain Sparrow was shadowed to her by he who stood at his left. He was altogether grand, and splendid, and charming, and terrifying all at once, and he regarded her now with a strange expression that caused her to feel more than a bit exhilarated. His smile was soft, but not without a certain amount of haughtiness, and the ever-present lechery hid behind the playful blue eyes that rested upon her, speaking no doubt of things to come.

His expression grew mischievous when he saw the way she suppressed a grin upon noticing the salacious glint in his eye. He sighed appreciatively at her appearance, noting that despite her still donning sailor's garb, she looked every bit the lady, and some besides; there was something terribly endearing about it. Jack, upon noticing the way Barbossa was engrossed with ogling his bride, made a show of clearing his throat in a rather conspicuous manner.

"Ah, shall we?"

Barbossa nodded, his reply dripping with sarcasm. "Aye, if ye don't mind."

"Very well then!" Jack had suddenly adopted a disturbingly cheerful demeanor, causing more than a few eyebrows to raise in concern; however, he proceeded without further ado.

"Gentleman,ladies," he nodded in Tia's direction, "we are gathered here today to witness the joining of this betrayer and this mutineer in, ah, _holy_ matrimony. Although– " he said, raising a finger, "– dividing him from her and her from him might only be half as cruel."

"Jack!" Both Elizabeth and Barbossa had snapped at him in unison.

"What? You people always complain I don't tell the truth, I'm tellin' it now!"

Tia frowned at him with motherly disapproval. "Jack, if ye not willin' to behave yo'self, I can be takin' your place."

He pouted for a slight moment, yet quickly shrugged it off as if nothing had happened, and turned his glance upon the one he had referred to as "mutineer."

"Do you, Hector Barbossa, take Lizzy as your wife, to have and to cherish, through rough seas and calm, scurvy and doldrums, until death or shipwreck do you part?"

Barbossa stared at him for a brief moment, motionless. _'Could he have been any more morbid?' _he thought, before rousing himself from the stupor that Jack had induced and finally answering his question.

"Aye, I do," he nodded, no small amount of disgruntlement settled over his face.

Jack then turned to Elizabeth, seeming not even to acknowledge the consent.

"And do you, Elizabeth, take Barbossa to be your husband, to have and cherish through rough seas, calm, scurvy, doldrums, until death or shipwreck separate you?"

"I do."

"Is there anyone present here who objects to the joining of this betrayer and mutineer?"

Although he kept his glance averted, Will could feel the eyes of the entire crew silently fall upon him. He said nothing, but managed a comradely smile in Barbossa's direction, which, to his surprise, was amiably returned. Despite the quiet, but prominent exchange between them, everyone's attention was still focused on Mr. Turner, and at last he brought himself to speak.

"As you all probably imagine, I wasn't exactly thrilled at the news of what would take place this morning, but the more I thought on it, the clearer my conclusion became. Try as I may, I cannot think of two people who deserve each other more."

He may acted as if to mean well, but it was clear from his tone that there was more hidden beneath his words than common flattery. Had such a comment been made at a more civilized wedding, no doubt gasps of scandal would have been uttered, but here, in a quiet port not yet occupied by the East India Trading Company, it was met with smiles and a few quiet, appreciative laughs; perhaps a truer statement would never be made concerning Hector Barbossa and his bride.

Jack grinned slyly at Will, who had succumbed to wearing a somewhat haughty expression now, before turning his attention back to the people before him.

"Then without further fuss, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss your bride," he waved his hands about sporadically, distaste just beginning to cloud his expression, "and whatever comes after."

"Aye, whatever comes after", was Barbossa's lascivious reply. "But not in front o' everyone, 'twould be in poor taste, to be sure." Nonetheless, he shot a sly wink at Elizabeth, who could only stare at him with slight indignance.

"I'm _waiting_", she said with a haughty smile.

"Yer still a shameless brat", he said with a wide grin. She mirrored his smile, and found herself taken gently into his arms, and for once, he exhibited an unusual amount of chaste as he kissed her. Reluctant, but genuine smiles played onto the faces of the crew, and now they had no doubts that Will had indeed spoken the truth, despite the double meaning in his words. The two of them seemed to suit one another, and not just for the fact that they were both untrustworthy and at times, mean-spirited. No, there was something odd and almost lovely about the way they complimented each other's personalities; he had the uncanny ability of getting her to see things with a good deal more common sense than she would on her own, and she was able to employ, if only on rare occasion, a gentle, and even demeanor to bring him out of whatever temperamental outbursts that would boil within him, threatening to spill out in the form of wrath upon whomever happened to be in his way.

-

"All ready to go, then?" Jack squinted against the afternoon sun. He had thought it odd to have found Will and Gibbs sitting in a circle with Elizabeth and Barbossa, but he felt that he probably ought to stop trying to make sense out of the oddities arising as of late. Given the easy-mannered way in which they all spoke to one another just now, no one would have ever guessed that a marriage had taken place just hours earlier. Will slowly looked up with squinted eyes to meet his gaze and gave a small nod.

"Take it this is where we part ways then, eh?"

Barbossa nodded at him, almost ruefully. "'Fraid so, Jack."

"Ah. Shame really. I'm sure you would have been an enormous aid in our little quest." For as much as it may have surprised both of them, it seemed that he really meant it.

The elder captain may have begrudgingly admitted to himself later on that he was just as sorry to part ways with Jack as he was to part with Will; there had been a time when the two of them had actually gotten on quite well and probably would have still, if not for Jack's bizarre ideas and the fact that he preferred trickery over taking things by force. Barbossa was convinced that young Sparrow's unconventional ways would only lead his career in piracy to utter disaster, and it had hardly taken much to convince the crew of the same all those years ago. Even now, he may have been sorry for the trouble that his treachery had caused countless innocents, he still held no regrets for the initial act. He only hoped that Jack might have learned from it, however difficult he had been as a student in the past.

"Aye, we would have been for certain," he replied with a cocky smile. "Not sure how you'll manage without us."

Jack sighed, ever amused with Barbossa's haughtiness, but not willing to let him have the last laugh. "You know, _Hector_," he said, resting an arm over his companion's shoulders, "I never really did get a chance to properly show you my gratitude for bringing me back to this wonderful place that is the land of the living."

Something about the glint in his eye and the restrained way he spoke caused Barbossa a good deal of unease and aroused his suspicion. Though he was loathe to show it, no one could deny that he had suddenly taken on a rather nervous attitude, especially towards that of Captain Sparrow. "I assure ye, Jack, you've done quite enough already, with that favor ye paid just this morning."

"Oh, but I haven't."

Following the utter gasps of shock and amazement, the crew allowed themselves an honest laugh at what had unfolded before them – Jack had kissed Barbossa on the mouth.

Though she gaped, Elizabeth could not help but snicker along with the rest. It was a sight that she would not soon forget, nor one that Barbossa would be able to live down for quite some time. At the moment, however, he looked fit to be tied and she worried just a bit for Jack's well being. An ungrounded fear, as it turned out; Jack was merely met with an icy glare and the silent promise that should he ever attempt something like that again, the consequences would be dire and unpleasant to say the least. Jack smiled as his older counterpart shook his head, looking him dead in the eye, a wry, if slightly insane smile coming to his lips.

"And so ends out consort, Jack Sparrow."

In the end, it was probably for the best that Jack had created so awkward a tension in such a way; it prevented short and simple parting words from growing into long, sentimental ones. Elizabeth felt strangely as if the two groups were parting ways far too quickly and not nearly quick enough all at the same time. However sorry he may have been to see Will, and even Jack, leave, Barbossa did not grieve over it; there were far more pressing matters on his mind at the moment, not least of all, the woman at his side who had just promised herself to him. Who belonged to him, claimed to love him, and he had no reason to doubt her.

It was with bittersweet feelings that they watched the _Pearl _shrinking into the distance. It seemed almost a shame to be bidding adieu to the adventure begun so many months ago, and yet on the other hand, it would have been an untruth to say that Barbossa and Elizabeth had not been pining to be alone together. Yet they stood on the deck of _Orpheus_, silently watching until the _Black Pearl _dissolved into a small speck on the horizon, all but disappearing from sight. He glanced down at her; she was nestled against him with her arm about his waist. She lifted her gaze to him, smiling coquettishly, and found herself suddenly in his embrace as he leaned down, pushing her hair aside to press firm kisses to her neck.

"We have an audience, Captain", she whispered breathlessly.

"Is that so?" He pulled back, taking her face in his hands and looking her in the eyes. "And what do ye propose we do about that, m'lady?"

Her bright-eyed smile was answer enough.

-

Hours later, she found herself idly tracing her fingers over his chest and the scars that adorned it; she determined herself that she would learn the story of each one. Though his eyes were closed, he was very much alerted to her current activity, and he brought an arm over her back, smiling.

"Enjoyin' yerself?

"Enjoying you, actually."

His response was somewhere between a sigh and a growl, and the smile never left his face. He wrapped his arms about her and she found the feeling of his rough hands dragging over her bare skin to be nigh intoxicating as recollections of the previous night's activities came rushing back to her and a blush rose in her cheeks. She had not remembered exactly when and how they had both rid themselves of the clothing that now lay strewn about the cabin, but she certainly did remember what had followed.

Blushing, however, had never stopped Elizabeth Swann from behaving less than the lady, and it was not about to put an end to the devilish fancies of Elizabeth Barbossa, either. She snaked her arms round his neck, pulling him close and kissing him deeply. It garnered the desired response; he returned the kiss with enthusiasm, rolling over so she was beneath him, letting his fingers tangle deeply into her messy tresses.

"Who do you belong to?" he asked, smiling down at her.

Grinning, she wriggled about in his arms, relishing the look on his face that showed just how much her behavior affected him. Her smile softened as she reached up to run her fingers through his silver-flecked hair.

"A wicked, mutinous sailor that the Devil himself wants no parts of. Someone who I've admired from the first, even when he held me prisoner."

He chuckled deeply, nuzzling his face against her neck. "I must say, of all the prisoners I've held, you were me most favorite." He peppered kisses over her collarbone, slowly making his way further down her chest. "Now answer the question. Properly."

"I'll answer your bloody question if you'll take a moment to stop dining on my anatomy and look at me." He growled at her threateningly, but his eyes still smiled as she took his face in her hands.

"_You_."

She was unable to suppress the small giggle that escaped her as he seemed to purr in response to her answer, a loving sort of satisfaction all over his weathered face. For all that she had mistrusted him in the past, as squeamish and annoyed as she had been at his advances, his suggestions, and his lecherous stares, there was something immensely thrilling and satisfying about giving in to him. To admit, mostly to herself, that she had been intrigued by him from the start, as he already knew too well the curious desire that had hidden behind her fearful eyes even as she had been but a captive at his mercy.

As if wishing to end the soppy triviality, as he thought of it, that they were currently engaged in, he suddenly sat up and rose from the bed, lazily pulling his breeches on and fastening them as he strode to the window of their cabin. Elizabeth did not pretend she didn't enjoy the sight, letting her eyes wander appreciatively over his bare back. She noticed now that it was tattooed with the likeness of a large tiger; it stretched nearly the entire length of his back, its great paws splayed possessively over his shoulders, its head turned about, seemingly in warning, to whomever looked at it. However silly it may have seemed, Elizabeth smirked back at it's stationary eyes, distractedly groping over the side of the bed and pulling on the shirt that her fingers had located; it was not her own and looked rather more like a dressing gown as she stood to her feet and crossed the floor to where the man she now called her husband stood, looking every bit the stoic pirate captain his reputation boasted of. She smiled lasciviously, snaking her arms around him from behind, pressing firm kisses over his back and letting her fingers play aimlessly over his stomach.

"What exactly be ye doin', pet?"

"Claiming you," she answered in breathlessly.

"Ah, I see. But ye do know that you claimed me last night as well. Several times, if me memory serves correctly," he said playfully, though his voice held more than a hint of rekindled desire as he grasped her small hands in his own large, gnarled ones. He sighed deeply, bringing an arm about her as she moved from behind and sidled against him, resting her head on his heavily scarred chest.

"You did say that you had intentions of taking me all that time ago, did you not?" she said, giving him a squeeze. "We clearly have lost time to make up for."

**A/N: **Just to let you know, this is **not **the last chapter, as I plan on at least doing an epilogue. After all, we wouldn't want to leave the fates of all those other characters just dangling, though I probably won't stray _too _far from what happened in the movie. Save for a few details I found annoying; some of you may like my 'fix-its'.

I used to think this chapter was a bit corny with the 'I do's', but when you think about the Willizabeth wedding in the actual movie, well, this works Deepest apologies for the way my muse went into a coma, but as I suspected, seeing the actual movie screwed up the perspective I had on Barbossabeth. But it's back now, yay! And I've also been sidetracked with _Home_, a post-AWE fic that actually respects canon material, and _Wolfen_, a seductive, somewhat predatory one-shot set during the last film.

I'll have the epilogue up . . . 'soon' I hope, (lol), and I'm open to suggestions on little scenarios you'd like to see with Hector and Liz. I can't say any ideas will make it into this story, but there's always the possibility of one-shots and vignettes with this pairing.

(P.S. I don't know if I'll ever get a sequel up, as I want to do an epic-length, life history of Barbossa fic that will be a bit of a spin-off from _Home_, but I'll ask anyways.

Do you want hints of pirate babies?

Gosh, can't believe I just said that . . . )


	14. Old Habits

_**Chapter 14**_

**Disclaimer: **I could say that Pirates of the Caribbean and all of the places, characters, and objects belonged to me, but it would strain credulity.

**A/N: **I know, I suck. I'm very sorry this took me so long to post, but I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

As with the first time he had invited her to come into his cabin and away from the cold, she garnered a certain and undeniable feeling of hominess from curling up in its confines, only these days she was far more apt to burrowing beneath the many blankets piled atop the four-poster bed in lieu of her former spot on the couch. Barbossa stared at her admirably now as she sat propped against the pillows, a book held in one hand, and in the other, an apple that she would occasionally nibble at.

"Now why couldn't ye have done that when I asked it of ye so long ago? Such a simple request."

She regarded him thoughtfully before answering, taking an absent-minded bite from the fruit. "I suppose I'd heard one too many fairy tales as a child involving poisoned apples."

"And yet you didn't believe in ghost stories, or so ye told me."

She gave him an impudent sigh and rolled her eyes, but her demeanor was sincere. "I suppose perhaps I just didn't want to believe, wanted to think that you were just a filthy old cad who'd been without for too long and just trying to frighten me into your bed."

"Exactly where you be now." The smile he wore was both triumphant and lascivious. "And I suppose you thought that once I'd got you there that I'd do somethin' despicable to ye. Something you really didn't think you wanted, but what you damn well needed, whether ye knew it or not. Your naivety and impudence begged for it," he said, settling himself beside her, propped on one elbow.

"That's exactly what I thought, dear Hector," she replied, grinning, and her voice had grown slightly husky. Her book abandoned for the time being, she took a slow, deliberate bite from the apple in her hand, letting the juice trickle carelessly down her chin.

His gaze followed the runaway droplets; he brought one arm around her and leaned down to capture it from where it had strayed down her neck. She titled her head back, reclining into his strong, but gentle touch, relishing the feeling of his tongue slipping over her skin. He lingered at the hollow of her neck for a moment before returning to claim her lips in a maddeningly slow and tender kiss.

"Perhaps there was a time when I would have liked nothin' better, Dove," he said softly, stroking her cheek. "Perhaps I want it right now." He smiled as a pair of arms encircled his neck with unyielding eagerness, and he allowed himself to be pulled into a rather dominant and aggressive kiss, knowing she very much enjoyed the feeling of taking him so and getting away with it. As he returned her unsubdued passion in kissing his lips, his face, his neck, he had managed to position himself so that he straddled her, letting her peel the bandana from his head and loose the plait that he wore in it so his hair was draped wildly about his shoulders, tickling her as it hung above her face. She would have been more than willing in that moment to take things to a point of no return, had it not been for the faint, but distinct call of '_Ship ho_!' coming from above them. He swore and groaned loudly in response, letting his head fall upon her neck in frustration. She couldn't help but giggle softly as she stroked his head in mock consolation.

"There, there, Captain Barbossa, we can finish our little game later, once we've seen to this ship they're bawling about."

"Hang the ship!" he growled, throwing himself at her with fervent enthusiasm.

"Oh, good grief – Hector!" She had honestly meant to make an attempt at prying him from herself and stepping out to see what sort of a ship had been spotted, but what he was doing to her neck at the moment drove it completely from her mind, and she found herself simply sighing with pleasure beneath him while she wove her fingers through his hair and gently dragged her nails over his shoulders. She knew she ought to have been more insistent, and that despite himself, he would have wanted her to be, but it was in such moments of rebellion that she sometimes liked to imagine that chunks of the past had never happened, that her blood had worked and she was back in his cabin aboard the _Pearl_, acting with sincerity every bit the bride he had wanted her to be and that she loved every last moment of it. She was his bushel of apples and his wine, and he was what she had dreamed of for as long as she could remember — her very own flesh and blood pirate, and a captain at that. While he may not have been exactly what she had pictured, she took secret enjoyment in the fact that so very much lay beneath the surface with him, unlike more polished members of society she had known in her lifetime; little more than empty shells of what a human being was supposed to be like. He could be wild and almost frightening, and yet in the same breath, take her in his arms in such a way that she felt safe, protected, inexorably loved. And yet, even with all this, she got the feeling as of late that something was missing, that perhaps things were not quite right for the simple fact that the ship upon which they sailed did not quite suit or match them in spirit, at least not the way it would have had it been a certain other.

"The _Pearl_!"

Her eyes flew open; his sudden exclamation had given her a bit of a start and for a moment she wondered how he had managed to see into her thoughts.

"What?" she asked, befuddled.

"Did ye not here 'em? They said it's the _Pearl_!"

Before she could question him any further, he had sprung to his feet and thrown the door open, and she was quick to follow. A quick look through the spyglass told them that the ship in the distance was, in fact, the _Black Pearl_. Elizabeth leaned over the railing, her knuckles going white and a smile spreading over her face. Barbossa stood beside her, looking beyond pleased, and she leaned into his embrace.

"By the powers, Pet, but I've missed 'er." Elizabeth said nothing, but placed her hand atop his and squeezed it tightly. He brought her hand to his lips, his other arm snugly about her, lightly stroking her shoulder, and she noted that he now regarded the approaching vessel with the same leer that had fallen upon her in bygone days, before she had been his. She could not help but wonder idly if she wore the same expression, though intuition told her that there was no need to question the fact. She at least, however, was able to suppress her strange new desire in lieu of the curiosity that was threatening to overcome her as the two vessels came to be anchored in closer proximity; her yearning to discover what had transpired since they had last parted ways with Jack and Will had been growing stronger with each passing day, despite her happiness otherwise, and there was always the slightest pang of regret that accompanied such thoughts.

As it turned out, she was given all the answers she could have wished for, though perhaps they did not all bode well with her, and she found herself idly bringing a finger to her mouth and biting at her nails as she sat at the table inside the cabin of the _Black Pearl_, Barbossa on one side of her and Jack on the other.

"That's all good and well, Jack, but what about 'said terrible beastie', as ye called it?" Jack appeared to be momentarily confused with Barbossa's inquiry.

"It's sitting directly across from me, drinking my wine and roving its filthy claws over the girl what was daft enough to marry it," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, his tone holding a small amount of distaste. Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him wearily.

"Jack, the kraken. Will can't have kept it alive."

"William provided us with a fantastic encore to the little trick he pulled with powder and rum when the bloody thing accosted us last time, though it was much more effective in this instance, I might mention. Huge bits of it went everywhere, for which I thanked him. Kept us fed for a week. Add a little rum and paprika and it tastes quite nice, actually."

"Though I'm quite sure it didn't taste as good a _second _time." The voice belonged to someone who had just entered, and despite his disheveled and dirty appearance, there was a regal quality about him as well; he was clearly a man who had mastered the task of carrying himself proudly. Elizabeth could not help but beam at the sight of him waltzing in, both graceful and lazy in manner.

"James! But, but I thought you were – "

"Perhaps I was, Elizabeth," he replied with a sly smile, not waiting for her to finish.

"Lizzy, do you recall that life he wanted back so badly?" Jack queried, lazily swirling the contents of his goblet. "It would seem that after all the trouble he went through to regain it, that propriety perhaps did not suit him quite so well after all." He smiled knowingly at her, as well as Barbossa, who returned the gesture. "So all in all," he continued, "Each of us has ended up with exactly what we wanted, even if some of us perhaps didn't know we wanted what it was that we wanted."

Elizabeth allowed herself a coquettish grin. "And only one of us required a compass to show them what it was, though it had been under his feet for most of the time."

"Touché, love." Jack raised his glass as James unceremoniously took a seat beside him. "But I must confess," he continued, "that I do believe I like mine a great deal better." He glanced round the cabin of the Pearl.

"All in the eye of the beholder, Captain Sparrow. And I never would have guessed that I'd see the day, James," she said with a glance in Norrington's direction.

"Begging your pardon, Elizabeth?" he inquired. Never had she been nor would she be 'Miss Swann' or 'Mrs. Turner' and certainly never 'Barbossa' to him. Just Elizabeth, and it made her smile.

"Meaning, James," she replied, raising her glass and indicating the rum in his hand, "Your drink. I always assumed it was wine for a more refined breed, am I correct, Captain?"

"Aye, ye speak the truth, Dove."

"'_Dove'_? You're already starting to refer to one another in juvenile and slightly sickening domestic terms of endearment? Why, if I didn't know any better, Hector, I'd say you're starting to go soft."

"Ah, but ye see, it be just the opposite, Jack," said Barbossa with a self-satisfied drawl, shrewdly narrowing his eyes at his fellow captain. Elizabeth went slightly pink and bit her lip to repress a smile and a laugh, James rolled his eyes, and Jack's lip had a slight curl; his facial expression suggested that he had a most unpleasant taste in his mouth, and he had also in that moment taken in Hector's disheveled appearance.

"Well," he began in a slightly higher pitch than normal, "this little rendezvous has been nothing short of delightful, but I daresay we ought to be going our separate ways, wouldn't ye say so, Jamie?"

"Mm." Norrington seemed to be somewhat lost in thought, eyeing Elizabeth and Barbossa with a look that bordered somewhere between bewildered and amused, and maybe perhaps, the slightest bit of admiration, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, save perhaps Jack, and even then not for quite some time. However he seemed to have adapted to piratical life, James Norrington, like Barbossa, still retained much of the gentleman he was raised to be along with the rogue he had become. As Elizabeth had risen from her seat, still pushing down what was left of her smile at Barbossa's earlier remark, she had felt a hand on her shoulder, and was unsurprised to turn about and see him wearing a roguish smirk that suited him remarkably well, and she couldn't help but think once more to herself how much nicer he looked without that foppish wig on his head.

"Elizabeth – " he paused, the slightest hint of a swagger in his step, and to her surprise, he pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead. "The very best to you." He glanced at Barbossa, looking as though he were uncertain what quite to make of him. "And to yours," he added as an afterthought.

During this exchange, Barbossa had taken seen fit to take Jack aside, as discreetly as possible given their close quarters. "Certain this ain't one o' your wild stories, Jack?"

For the most part, he had been inclined to believe everything that Jack and Norrington had shared, but there was a hint of doubt that lingered ever in his mind when dealing with Sparrow; he had, after all, not been above telling tales in the past.

"What?" Jack countered, seemingly taken off guard. "William Turner taking upon himself captaincy of the _Flying Dutchman_, and Tia Dalma sashaying off right along with him? Freeing the entire crew save for that one charge who's to blame for all this mess in the first place? Mate, not even I'm quite capable of concocting a tale that far-fetched and somewhat disturbing. Although," he added thoughtfully, "I imagine he'll soften up and take ol' Cutler to the world beyond rather than have 'im stickin' round for a hundred years."

Barbossa's gaze dropped to the floor, his brows furrowed in thought. Some moments later, he brought himself to give a sideways glance at his comrade once more, to find the man wearing an amused, almost sympathetic smile.

"Whelp o' Bill Turner takin' captaincy of Jones' ship and the locker to boot . . ." Barbossa shook his head. "God help us all."

"Hector, I doubt if a truer statement has ever left the confines of your filthy mouth."

"I'm sure," he sneered. "And what possessed ye to take on the coxcomb?" He cast a quick glance at Norrington, scowling when he saw the way he was bidding Elizabeth farewell. Jack shrugged.

"Never was one to turn down a kindred spirit, you know that. And what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, aye? He's tried to kill me on numerous occasions, and yet here I am. If there is one thing I have learned from young Mr. Turner, or Captain Turner, as I suppose we must now call 'im, is that fops and prigs make fine pirates once you get them to see your side o' things. You of all people should know that. Jamie was a fine fop and he'll make an even finer pirate, I'll wager," he smiled fondly.

"Nonetheless, I'd be keepin' an eye on 'im if I were you, lad."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"He reminds me much of meself," he replied with a toothy grin. Jack wrinkled his nose.

"My thanks for that little warning," he said, though it was obvious by his actions that he didn't think much of it. "Now then, off ye go." Jack had been gracious enough, by his own way of thinking, to allow them aboard for a short time, but had done so only because he knew Elizabeth would be eager to learn what sort of a hand fate had dealt them regarding their pursuit of the _Dutchman_. He was all too eager now to see the back of them once more and be left to do his own bidding, as he had been attempting to do for the past fourteen years. He frowned for just a moment before allowing it to shift into a grim smile as they exited his cabin, for although he was happy to see them finally striding along the gangplank, there was still an inexplicable feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach; perhaps he would have preferred it if they had remained in clear sight, after all.

—

The two of them stood leaned against the railing of _Orpheus_, in the usual spot. The same spot, Elizabeth fondly recalled, where she had been ensnared in her captain's arms and felt his lips upon hers for the first time. And yet now, his expression was neither seductive nor salacious; she tentatively coiled her arm around his and lay her head against his shoulder, joining him in watching the _Pearl _shrink ever farther into the distance. He glared at it determinedly, almost bitterly, hardly blinking.

"Are you quite alright?"

He heaved a sigh, slipping his arm from her grasp and hugging her to his side, his chin upon her head. "I want 'er back, Elizabeth." His tone left no reason to doubt the intent behind his statement.

"So do I," she whispered. She felt him tighten his hold on her, and looked up to see a dark and anxious smile beginning to cross his face as his eyes slowly fell upon her.

"D'ye mean it, Pet?" For as much as he had a rushing desire within him to reclaim his ship at almost any cost, he had been unsure what her opinion may have been of it. She put her arms about his middle and kissed him on the chin before nestling against his chest once more.

"You taught me long ago that it's no good lying to you, did you not?"

"Aye, that I did, and I be glad to see yer still learnin' quickly," he murmured, running his fingers through her hair.

She looked up at him once more, brows furrowed in concern. "I do mean it, but only on the condition no one aboard that ship is maimed or killed."

"'Course."

"Really?" Rather than being pleased about his prompt answer, she had been taken aback by the solid surety in his tone when he gave it. She doubted very much if he would ever make an attempt at Jack's life or well being again, but had little doubt in her mind about the latest addition to Captain Sparrow's crew.

"Indeed."

What she did not know was that Barbossa had given a great deal of thought regarding Mr. Norrington. While it was true that he had been responsible for making things as complicated as they turned out, Barbossa had to thank him for it. Had things notbecome so deliciously complex, he would be standing now in possession of his ship only, and not the unlikely person in his arms along with the promise of the former as well.

"And with that said, I'll be givin' orders to pursue."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Hector," she said lazily, putting her hand into his and lacing their fingers together. He frowned at her.

"Don't be tellin' me yer havin' second thoughts. Ye want 'er back as bad as I do. I know what _want _looks like, 'Lizabeth. Seen it enough times. And I be seein' it in yer eyes now."

"Indeed you do. For the _Black Pearl _and other things besides," she added slyly. "However, I think we can afford to give them a day's head start."

An expression between crestfallenness and annoyance quickly distorted his features; while she could never remember a feeling of being quite so happy and free as she was now, there was no denying that the two of them had already had some rather fabulous disagreements, the least of which had caused the entire crew to skirt nervously about them until their debate at the time was settled. She knew in her heart that he would never again take to being violent with her, as he had at Isla De Muerta, but even at a distance, he could be intimidating, particularly when he shouted at the top of his voice in a towering temper. Yet for all the unpleasantries of quarreling, making up afterwards was always equally, if not more so, fabulous. She remained silent as he continued to bore into her with his steely gaze, hoping to herself that now would not become one of those times, even if she would have thoroughly enjoyed the apologies between them.

"A day's head start?"

She nodded sweetly.

"_Why_?"

"It's only fair and sporting, and I know you to be a reasonable man. Besides," she added, reaching up to stroke his face, "it'll give us a chance to finish what we started." A shudder of pleasure ran through her at the deep laugh he gave in response, as well as the way he nipped at her hand.

"It be a wonder yer not with child, what with the hunger ye have fer such things. Where exactly was it that we left off?" he queried teasingly.

"My naivety and impudence begging for something I damn well needed, if I recall properly. You were even prepared to 'hang the ship' as you put it; I'm not entirely sure how we've gone from hanging to pursuing."

"Unique circumstances, 'Lizabeth. I hate to see what's rightfully mine in the hands of another man what doesn't deserve 'er. What say ye to half a day, and I'll procure us some satin sheets fer our cabin on the _Pearl_?"

She stared at him skeptically as she considered his offer. "Red ones? And do you intend to ravish me on them?"

"Aye, and frequently."

"Very well then." She grinned cattishly. "Shall we?" she inquired, the direction of her glance indicating their current quarters.

"Thought ye'd never ask," was his playfully sarcastic rejoinder.

"Hector?" she began tentatively, as they walked along the deck, arms slung about one another's shoulders.

"Hm?"

"You – you wouldn't mind terribly much, would you?"

"Would I mind what?"

She swallowed with some difficulty. "If — if I . . . you and I, that is, were to find ourselves . . . with child?"

"No." He stopped and turned to her, brows knitted with curiosity. "Why? Be ye wantin' babies, Pet?"

She squeezed his hand, regarding him with almost amused trepidation while she bit her lip. His expression went from one of curiosity to that of slight incredulity and comical disbelief.

"Be ye certain?"

"No," she answer softly. "But almost."

"Ah, so I see. And when exactly were ye plannin' on tellin' me?"

"Now, it would seem." Her tone was quiet and subdued and altogether unlike the one she normally took on. It would seem that she had been almost afraid of how he would react at the prospect._ 'Silly little bird, how very mistaken you are_,_' _he thought to himself. He sighed deeply, taking her face in his hands and gently lowering his mouth to hers, taking care to slowly capture her lower lip between his own. In spite of the fact that she had by now kissed him many, many times, he never failed to render her breathless when he kissed her in such a manner, and he though he would normally grin in lascivious self-satisfaction and redouble his actions, this time he simply embraced her tightly and closed his eyes, kissing her firmly on the top of the head.

"Hector, darling," she said after a while.

"Yes?" He had been gazing out at the horizon, his mind lost in thought and his hand in her wavy brown tresses.

"Our half day is wasting away."

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head and looked down at her yet again. "Still and always a shameless little brat." His hands traveled to her backside, where they seemed to come to rest so comfortably and conveniently. He bent down to whisper in her ear as he pulled her against him. "And always I'll love ye for it."

"Likewise, Captain Barbossa."

'Almost' would quickly leave absolutely no reason whatsoever for doubt, and the months melted away impossibly fast, it seemed, and the following spring would find them together in the cabin of the _Pearl_, snuggled beneath satin sheets as he'd promised, with the addition of the child that would grow to have Elizabeth's wildly elegant visage and Hector's steely, sea-blue eyes, lying between them. Robert, or Robbie, as they called him, would, unfortunately for some, inherit both of their tempers, something that no doubt pleased Hector a great deal. But for the time being, they simply strode to the cabin of _Orpheus _together, unaided by persuasion or ulterior motives, and neither led the other — they went hand in hand.

—

* * *

**A/N: **So there you have it. And believe me, I cannot express how very truly sorry I am that I've neglected this story the way I have. I know it's not fair to readers, but trust me, it wasn't for lack of trying! Guess that'll teach me to start a fic and not have a clear idea where I'm headed with it, heh. Thank you so much to all who have read and stuck with this thing for so long, and especially to those who helped me along with ideas and criticism; you have no idea how helpful you have been with your wonderfully kind messages and reviews. To think, when I started this, I was actually afraid I'd get flamed for doing what I thought would be regarded as a 'yucky' pairing! On a side note, I'm thrilled that the enthusiasm for Barbossabeth has exploded so much since the final movie was released, huzzah! And though they'll probably never see, I also have to thank Geoffrey Rush for making Hector into such a multi-dimensional and human character, and for having the quiet, unspoken chemistry shared between himself and Keira in their scenes together. Took an enormous amount of inspiration from them, I did.

Other than that, I have to say that this story has been a fun ride, and I've had a great time writing it. Also, I wasn't able to work this bit into the story, but I figured I'd mention it here – I think giving the circumstances of the plot, Jack probably told Governor Swann that Elizabeth had simply married herself a sea captain. Or you can come to your own conclusions about what transpired. I'm just not sure Jackie would have the heart to tell him she ran off with the man who held her captive, lol. Norrington LIVES, yay! (What a waste that was, wasn't it?!) I also fiddled with the _Dutchman _legend a bit, and just let Tia Dalma be herself rather than use the Calypso storyline; I didn't much care for that bit. And I gave in and had her go away with Will, since they shared a subtle, but very prominent chemistry in DMC, much as Hector and Liz share one in the first and third films.


End file.
